


Anchors

by PandaTurtle333



Series: S.O.S. [7]
Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Depression, F/M, Horror, Loss, PTSD, Romance, slow-burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:48:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 21
Words: 51,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23192692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PandaTurtle333/pseuds/PandaTurtle333
Summary: In book seven of the S.O.S. series, Anna Wycoff and the other survivors deal with the aftermath of their devastating losses at the hands of Negan. With her past coming back to haunt her, can Anna find the strength to stand with her family and fight back? Or, will fear be the anchor that finally drowns her?
Relationships: Daryl Dixon/Original Female Character(s)
Series: S.O.S. [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1229975
Comments: 3
Kudos: 15





	1. Prologue

_Anna sat at the desk, tapping her pencil against the page along to the ticking of the clock. It was as though she’d been sitting at the desk for years now, trying to finish the book. There was just so much left to say._

_“Anna!”_

_With a heavy sigh, Anna pushed up from her chair and headed out of the office, following her mother’s voice._

_“It’s time to eat!” Her father said._

_“I’m coming,” Anna called back._

_She walked through the house until she was standing at the back door, staring out over the porch where everyone was gathered around the table, which was piled with food. As she made her way through the crowd, each person patted her shoulder._

_“Congratulations,” Maggie said, a baby on her hip._

_“Finally,” Glenn said._

_"It’s about damn time,” Abraham agreed from beside Sasha._

_“We’re all so happy for you two,” Evan grinned, and Anderson nodded._

_On it went until Anna was standing beside Daryl at the head of the table._

_"Let’s eat!” Jessie cheered, pulling out Rosita’s chair for her as everyone took a seat._

_Anna set her hands in her lap as everyone began to eat, making no move to do so herself as she looked around at her family and friends talking and laughing. Glenn bounced his baby in his lap, making the infant giggle. He looked just like Glenn._

_She glanced at Daryl as he told some dry joke she couldn’t help but laugh at._

_Her cheeks started hurting from the smile spread across her face. She looked down to her hands, where she had begun to fiddle with her mother’s engagement ring on her left finger._

_Daryl reached over and took her hand, and she looked back up at him. He smiled at her._

_“I love you,” Anna said._

_“I love you, too,” Daryl chuckled._

Anna flinched awake, blinking as she stared into the dark. She rolled onto her back and felt her left ring-finger. It was vacant. It was just a dream.

“You good?” Daryl asked, his voice groggy—barely awake.

“Yeah,” Anna muttered.

“Was it another nightmare?”

“No,” Anna said slowly. “It was a pretty good dream, actually.”

He hummed in response, his hand slipping into hers.

“Hey, Daryl?” She called softly.

“Hm?” Was his barely audible response.

“I love you.”

"Love you, too,” he muttered before he began to snore softly.

Anna smiled, turned onto her side so that she faced him, and then squeezed his hand. With no other indication that he had woken up again, Daryl squeezed her hand back.


	2. Chapter One

“What?” Negan asked. “Was the joke that bad?”

Anna could barely breathe as she stared at the pile on the ground, the headlights shining on the wet clumps of brain matter.

“Isaac,” Negan called. “Go ahead and let that one go.”

Isaac’s arms slid out from around Anna and the cold rushed her body. She felt a shiver run up her spine. Negan sauntered past, and Anna’s eyes were glued to the bat.

_Lucille_.

“I’m gonna kill you,” Rick said, his voice low.

“What?” Negan asked, holding his hand to his ear. “I didn’t quite catch that. You’re gonna have to speak up,” he said, crouching in front of Rick.

Rick bowed his head and adjusted his knees before looking back at Negan, Abraham’s blood glistening on his cheek.

“Not today… not tomorrow… but I’m gonna kill you.”

“Jesus,” Negan huffed before chuckling softly. “Simon… what did he have? A knife?”

“Uh—he had a hatchet,” the man with the balding round head said.

“A _hatchet_?” Negan scoffed.

“He had an ax,” Simon amended, and Negan laughed.

“Simon’s my right-hand man. Having one of those is important,” Negan said. “I mean, what do you have left without them? A whole lot of work. Do you have one? Maybe one of these fine people still breathing? Oh—” Negan gasped. “Or did I?” He asked, clicking his tongue as he tilted his bat. “Sure,” he sighed. “Yeah. Give me his ax.”

Simon approached with Rick’s ax and handed it to Negan, who promptly tucked it into his belt before grabbing Rick by the jacket and dragging him toward the RV.

“I’ll be right back,” Negan said, Rick barely able to keep his feet under him. “Maybe Rick will be with me. And if not—” Negan threw Rick into the RV and turned to the others. “Well, we can just turn these people inside out, won’t we? I mean, the ones that are left.”

The RV door slammed shut, and Anna winced.

She dropped her eyes to the heap on the ground beside her and blinked. They were dead. Both of them. Gone—just like that. Anna turned back to see Daryl hunched over, his shoulders shaking.

She could hear the RV’s engine struggle to turn over.

Anna wanted to reach out to Daryl, to pull him to her and tell him it wasn’t his fault. But he wouldn’t look at her.

“Ahem,” Simon cleared his throat, calling everyone’s attention to him. “I know you all are experiencing a lot of emotions right now—understandable—” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “But this isn’t over. Don’t any of you move or we will shoot…” he began to click his tongue against his teeth as he scanned the group. “Him,” he finally said, pointing at Jessie, who was kneeling between Sasha and Carl.

Immediately, a burly Savior moved behind Jessie and aimed a rifle at the back of his head. Jessie didn’t flinch as he stared at Simon. The RV came to life and drove away, and Jessie’s eyes flicked over to Anna. He bowed his head ever so slightly in her direction—the only comfort he could offer her.

The cold seeped into her bones and her chest heaved as she tried to get air in her lungs.

“You know, you really brought this on yourselves,” Simon said, his voice deceptively gentle.

_“I hope you understand why I had to.”_

Anna cringed and turned her head to look behind her. Isaac stood a few feet away, watching her. She turned back, her whole body rigid. She could hardly believe he was really alive.

“I mean, you were the ones who struck first, after all,” Simon went on pacing up and down the line. “We had to defend ourselves. So, really—” he stopped, looking down on them with a smug face. “It’s your fault your friends are dead, and it’ll be your fault if anyone else dies.”

_Your fault._

Anna shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut. When she opened them again, Simon was crouched in front of her, staring at her with his beady black eyes.

“You disagree?” Simon asked.

Anna took a shuddering breath but said nothing.

“I’m really asking,” Simon insisted. “What do you think happened here? Whose fault do you think it is? Ours?”

“Leave her alone,” Jessie snapped.

“Was I talking to you?” Simon asked calmly, looking to Jessie. “No? Then shut it.” He turned back to Anna. “Anna?” He asked, tilting his head. “He’s your brother, right?”

Anna ground her teeth, biting back her words. She didn’t want to say something that would get anyone else hurt—or killed.

“Yeah, we know exactly who all of you are—thanks to Eugene there,” Simon grinned, standing and looking at the others. “Don’t be mad at him though, we can be _very_ persuasive.”

He began to walk away, scuffing the heels of his boots against the gravel. “Things could have gone a lot worse for all of you. It still can—remember that.”

It was quiet after that, Simon seeming satisfied with his taunting. No one moved or made any sound except for pained sobs and ragged breaths.

She wasn’t sure how long they’d been sitting in that circle, the gravel digging into their knees. The sun was rising, filtering through the surrounding trees, the morning mist rolling over them until it evaporated and the RV finally reappeared.

It squealed to a stop and shut off. Minutes ticked by without the door opening. She wanted to believe it was Rick, waiting on the other side with a dead Negan, trying to come up with the best plan to kill the rest of the Saviors and free them.

Anna jumped as the door slammed open and Rick was kicked from the RV, landing hard on the ground. Negan stepped out and grabbed Rick, dragging him forward and throwing him in front of them.

“Here we are,” Negan announced. “Let me ask you somethin’, Rick—do you even know what that little trip was about?” He asked as Rick sat up on his knees. Rick said nothing. “Speak when you’re spoken to.”

“Okay,” Rick said. “Okay.”

Negan rolled his eyes.

“That trip was about the way that you looked at me. I wanted to change that,” he explained. “I wanted you to _understand_. But you’re still looking at me the same damn way. Like I shit in your scrambled eggs, and that’s not gonna work. So,” he said, crouching beside Rick. “Do I give you another chance?”

“Yeah—yes. Yes,” Rick said.

“Okay,” Negan nodded, standing. “All right. And here it is—the grand-prize game. What you do next will decide whether your crap day becomes everyone’s _last_ crap day or just another crap day.” He turned to his men. “Get some guns to the back of their heads.”

Guns cocked and the back of Anna’s skull tingled at the feel of the barrel so close. She wondered if it was Isaac standing behind her.

“Good. Now, level with their noses, so if you have to fire—” Negan imitated an explosion in front of his face, “—it’ll be a real mess. Kid.” He called, looking to Carl and wagging his finger at him. “Right here,” he said, pointing at the ground at his feet. Carl did nothing but glare at him.

Anna was envious of the look on his face, the way he wasn’t shaking or crying.

“Kid. Now,” Negan growled.

Carl finally got to his feet and stood beside Negan, who grinned down at him as he began to take his belt off. The sound of his buckle jingling sent ice through her veins.

“You a southpaw?” He asked.

“Am I a what?” Carl snapped.

“You a lefty?” Negan clarified.

“No,” Carl sneered.

“Good,” Negan said, wrapping his belt around Carl’s left arm. “That hurt?” He asked, tightening it.

“No.”

“Should,” Negan said. “It’s supposed to. Alright—get down on the ground, kid, next to Daddy. Spread them wings!” Carl got down on the ground and laid flat on his stomach, his arms spread out. “Simon, you got a pen?”

“Yeah,” Simon said, digging into his pockets before tossing Negan a black marker.

“Sorry, kid. This is gonna be as cold as a warlock’s ball sack,” Negan said as he uncapped the marker and knelt down to draw it across Carl’s forearm. “Just like he was hanging his ball sack above you and dragging it right across the forearm. There you go,” he said, recapping it and tossing it back to Simon. “Gives you a little leverage.”

“Please,” Rick breathed. “Please. Please don’t. Please don’t,” he begged.

“Me?” Negan scoffed, smiling at Rick. “I ain’t doin’ shit.” He got to his feet and pulled up his pants. “Rick, I want you to take your ax and cut your son’s left arm off, right on that line.”

Anna’s eyes widened and she fell forward, bracing her hands against the pavement.

“Don’t,” Isaac warned.

“Now, I know—I know,” Negan said after glancing at Anna. “You’re gonna have to process that for a second. That makes sense. Still, though, I’m gonna need you to do it, or all these people are gonna die. Then Carl dies, then the people back home die and then you—eventually. I’m gonna keep you breathing for a few years, just so you can stew on it.”

“You—you don’t have to do this,” Michonne pleaded. “We understand. We understand-”

“ _You_ understand. Yeah. I’m not sure that Rick does,” Negan corrected. “It’s gonna have to be like a salami slice—nothing messy, clean, forty-five degrees—give us something to fold over. We got a great doctor. The kid’ll be fine. Probably,” he shrugged. “Rick, this needs to happen now—chop, chop—or I will crush the little fella’s skull myself.”

“It can—it can—it can be me,” Rick stammered, his eyes watering and face turning pink. “It can be me. W-w—f” he sniffled. “Y-you can do it to me. I can—I can go with—with you.”

“No. This is the only way,” Negan said. “Rick, pick up the ax.”

Rick began to tremble and his breathing picked up to a rapid and unsteady pace, but he didn’t pick up the ax.

“Not making a decision is a _big_ decision,” Negan warned. “You really want to see all these people die? You will. You will see every ugly thing.”

Anna closed her eyes. She would rather Isaac pull the trigger than let Rick cut Carl’s arm off. The question was, was she willing to give up everyone else's life?

“Oh, my God. Are you gonna make me count?” Negan huffed. “Okay, Rick. You win. I am counting. Three!”

“Please,” Rick sobbed. “Please. It can be me. Please!”

“Two!”

“Please, don’t do—”

Negan crouched beside Rick again and frowned at him. “This is it.”

Rick cried out, staring horrified between the ax and his son as Negan stood again.

“Dad just do it,” Carl said. “Just do it.”

Finally, with a wail that shattered Anna’s heart, Rick grabbed his ax and hefted it above his head.

“Rick,” Negan said, and Rick paused, hyperventilating. “You answer to me.” Negan said, crouching beside him once more as Rick dropped his ax. “You provide for me. You belong to me. Right?”

Rick nodded, looking away, but Negan snatched his face in hand and forced Rick to look at him.

“Speak when you’re spoken to!” Negan roared. “You answer to me. You provide for me.”

“Provide for you,” Rick echoed.

“You belong to me, right?” Negan finished.

“Right,” Rick gasped.

“Right,” Negan said, letting go of Rick’s face. “That is the look I wanted to see,” Negan cheered, standing. He picked up Rick’s ax “We did it,” he said, standing and gesturing around at those gathered. “All of us, together—even the dead guys on the ground. Hell, they get the spirit award, for sure. Today was a productive damn day! Now, I hope for all your sakes that you get it now. That you understand how things work,” he said, gesturing at them. “Things have changed. Whatever you had going for you, that is over now.” 

He chuckled and wiped his face.

“Dwight, load him up,” he said, pointing his bat at Daryl.

Dwight hauled Daryl to his feet and threw him into the back of the van. Daryl paced in the van, trapped like a wild animal as Dwight aimed the crossbow at him.

“No,” Anna gasped, her voice barely audible as a fresh fall of tears coated her face.

“He’s got guts—not a little bitch like someone I know. I like him. He’s mine now,” Negan declared, crouching again beside Rick. “But you still want to try something? ‘Not today, not tomorrow,’” he mocked. “‘Not today, not tomorrow?’ I will cut pieces off of—” he paused and squinted at Simon. “Hell’s his name?”

“Uh… Daryl,” Simon said.

“Wow,” Negan said. “That actually sounds right. I will cut pieces off of Daryl and put them on your doorstep—or, better yet, I will bring him to you and have you do it for me.” He hummed and patted Rick on the back before standing. “Welcome to a brand-new beginning, you sorry shits!” He whooped. “I’m gonna leave you a truck. Keep it. Use it to cart all the crap you’re gonna find me. We’ll be back for our first offering in one week,” he said as he sauntered off. “Until then,” he tossed the ax over his shoulder and it clattered to the ground. “Ta-ta.”

As Negan loaded into his truck and drove off, the rest of the Saviors scattered and climbed into their own vehicles, their tires kicking up the dust around them. Dwight slammed the back of the van shut, blocking Anna’s view of Daryl. One Savior stopped in front of Abraham and pulled out a Polaroid camera and snapped a photo, the whir of the film sliding out filling her ears before he moved to Glenn.

Anna flinched as Isaac came up beside her ear, his breath tickling her skin in such a familiar way.

“I’ll see you soon,” he whispered, his hand trailing over her back before he stood and walked off, joining Dwight in the van. They drove away, taking Daryl with them.

She wanted to get to her feet, to chase after them. But she couldn’t feel herself past the trembling and sobs that wracked her body. All she could do was stare helplessly after them and then they were gone.

“Maggie,” Rick called. “Maggie—Maggie, you need to sit down,” he said.

Anna inched her head around to see Maggie climbing to her feet and staggering toward Glenn.

“Maggie,” Rick repeated.

“No,” she said.

“We need to get you to the Hilltop,” Rick said, getting to his own feet, holding his hands out to her.

“You need to go get ready,” Maggie corrected.

“For what?” Rick asked.

“To fight them,” Maggie said, holding back her sobs.

“They have Daryl. They have an army. We would die—all of us,” Rick reasoned.

“Go home,” Maggie breathed. “Take everybody with you. I can get there by myself.”

“You can barely stand up,” Rick said.

“I need to go. You need to go to Alexandria. You were out—out here for me,” she sobbed.

“We still are,” Rick assured.

“I can make it now. I need you to go back. I can’t have you out here. I can’t have you all out here anymore. I need you to go back,” she rambled, her breathing coming in quick bursts.

“Maggie, we’re not letting you go. Okay?” Michonne said, stepping forward.

“You have to,” she said.

“It’s not gonna happen,” Rick said.

Sasha got to her feet and walked over, placing her hand on Maggie’s elbow.

“I’m taking her,” she said. “I’m gonna get her there. I’m gonna keep her safe,” she assured. “I’m not giving you a choice.”

“I’m taking him with me,” Maggie insisted, falling to her knees beside Glenn’s body.

Sasha went to Rosita still on the ground. “I’m gonna take him. That’s what I’m gonna do.”

Rosita hesitated before taking a deep breath and nodding. The two women and Eugene gathered around Abraham and lifted him, carrying him over to the truck Negan had left behind.

Jessie walked up to Anna and knelt beside her, his hand finding purchase on her shoulder.

"Anna?”

Anna closed her eyes and pulled herself to her feet. She felt numb as she made her way to Maggie.

“I need to do this,” Maggie said.

“Please,” Rick said. “We need to help you.”

“I got it. I got it,” Maggie said.

“Please,” Anna whispered, coming around to kneel on the other side of Glenn, her hands shaking as she touched his slowly cooling body. “Maggie—” Their eyes met, both red and swollen. “He’s our family, too.”

Maggie’s jaw stiffened before she nodded.

Anna slid her hands under Glenn’s arm as Maggie stood and backed away, allowing Jessie to take her place as she hugged Carl. Rick took his feet and they lifted him. Anna’s stomach churned at the sound of a chunk of Glenn’s brain slapping against the ground as they lifted him and it fell.

They carried him to the truck and laid him beside Abraham in the bed. Sasha and Maggie climbed into the truck as Anna backed away and Rick shut the back with a loud bang before the truck engine turned over.

Anna watched as the they pulled forward and drove away, disappearing into the distance toward Hilltop. Anna felt like her body was being torn into three pieces; one part with Daryl, one part with Glenn, leaving a broken, tangled mess barely standing.

She started toward the RV, her boots dragging through the gravel.

“Anna,” Rick called and she paused. “Anna, I’m so sorry.”

She said nothing as she continued into the RV, hiding herself in the back where she laid in the bed, curling on her side as she faced the wall.


	3. Chapter Two

Dwight shoved Daryl through the open door into a medical room where a tall, thin man stood in a stark, white lab coat.

“I wasn’t expecting visitors,” the man said.

“He just needs to be patched up,” Dwight said, pushing Daryl onto the exam table. “Can’t have the boss’s new toy bleedin’ out on us.”

“Of course,” the doctor said, gathering some supplies from a cabinet. “What is the nature of the injury?”

“Gun shot, close range—bullet went clean through,” Dwight explained, aiming the gun at Daryl. “Just like this one will if you do anything stupid.”

“I need you to remove your shirt,” the doctor said.

Daryl didn’t move.

“He said take off the shirt,” Dwight snapped. “So, do it.”

Still, Daryl didn’t move.

“Take it off. Do you want to bleed to death?” Dwight hissed, pressing the gun to Daryl’s head.

Daryl ground his teeth. If there was any hope of getting out of this, he needed to start with getting this damn hole in his shoulder patched up. Reluctantly, he shrugged off his vest and shirt.

Dwight snatched up the vest and surveyed it. Daryl moved to grab his vest, only for Dwight to pull it out of his reach and point the gun in his face.

“I like this,” he said. “It’s mine now.”

Daryl sat back, glaring at Dwight past the gun as the doctor leaned around him and began to clean the wound. He hardly registered the stinging, and before long the man was taping bandages over both holes.

“Not much else to do but keep it clean until it heals,” the doctor explained.

“Alright, now get up,” Dwight ordered, grabbing Daryl’s arm and herding him out of the room.

They walked down the halls, making various turns as they went until they stopped at a solid metal door with a deadbolt on the outside.

“Open the door,” Dwight commanded.

Daryl pulled it open to see an empty room, just a few feet smaller than the office back home.

“Go in.”

He stepped inside and he heard the door squeal shut.

“Hold up,” a man called, his footsteps quickly approaching before the door closed completely.

“What Isaac?” Dwight asked.

Daryl turned to see the man who had grabbed Anna in the circle. He tensed and took a step forward.

Isaac leaned in close and whispered into Dwight’s ear before taking a step back.

“Alright, then do it,” Dwight sighed.

Isaac rolled his eyes and stepped into the room.

“Move and Isaac here will shoot you,” Dwight warned. “I’ll be back,” he said before turning and heading off down the hall.

Isaac made his way around Daryl.

“Damn, the hell happened to your back?” He asked as he began to pat him down. His fingers slipped into Daryl’s left pocket.

Daryl did his best not to move as Isaac pulled out the photo of Anna and surveyed it.

“Look at this—a picture of a pretty girl.” He whistled low. “Alright Daryl, gonna need you to take the rest off.”

“What?” Daryl snapped.

“You heard me.”

“No.”

“Do it, or she’s gonna get a little visit,” Isaac said, holding up Anna’s picture.

Daryl tensed but complied, stepping out of his pants.

“See, that wasn’t so hard,” he grinned, kicking the rest of Daryl’s clothes out of the room. “Ah, it sure was good to see Annie again—she’s lookin’ good. You’ve taken real good care of her.”

_Annie?_

“The hell you know about her?” Daryl hissed.

“Oh, I know a whole lot about her,” he hummed. “Yes, she and I had plenty of time to get to know each other.” He took a step toward Daryl and leaned in close to his ear. “She ever tells you about me? How I saved her life after the farm fell?”

Daryl’s body went rigid.

“Yeah, I found her out in the woods when she shot that man—Anderson was his name, if I recall,” he went on. “Kept her alive and fed all winter. Granted,” he said, stepping backwards out of the room, “the accommodations weren’t as nice as what we have here.”

“I’m gonna kill you,” Daryl growled.

“Oh, are you?” Isaac asked, his lips twitching up into a smirk. “Because I had her first? Or have you not had your turn yet?”

Daryl lunged forward, only to slam against the door as Isaac shut it.

“You sum’ bitch!” Daryl roared, pounding his fists against the door. “Come back here!”

* * *

The floor was cold and hard under his bare skin, but his eyes kept lulling shut. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been awake. All yesterday and most of the night, but how long had it been since they’d brought him here? How long had he beat against the door until he finally gave up and sat down?

He couldn’t get Isaac’s words out of his head. Anna hadn’t gone into detail about what had happened that winter—she hadn’t wanted to talk about the scars he’d left on her, saying that it wouldn’t do any good. She had just wanted to move on, and he was fine with that.

But the look on her face when she first saw Isaac—that expression of absolute terror. It was that same look she’d had so many times when waking up from a nightmare—the ones he’d been awake to catch. It was burned in his mind.

The sound of approaching boots caught his attention and he glanced up to look through the gap between the floor and the door—the only source of light in the little cell. The boots stopped and the door squealed open, light flooding the room.

Dwight walked in, a paper plate and sandwich in hand. He held it out to Daryl. After a moment, Daryl snatched it from the plate and put it to his lips, the smell giving him pause.

“Eat or starve,” Dwight sneered.

Daryl pulled the sandwich away from his face and saw the dog food squished between the bread.

“Eat it or your little girlfriend will,” Dwight said.

Daryl worked his jaw before stuffing the sandwich in his mouth, chewing and swallowing before he could register the taste. It settled heavily in his stomach and he gagged on the aftertaste.

Dwight scoffed as he left, slamming and locking the door.

* * *

“ _We’re on Easy Street, and it feels so sweet, ‘cause the world is but a treat when you’re on Easy Street..._ ”

Daryl flinched at the blaring music.

“Get the hell up,” Dwight commanded over the song, pounding against the door.

He staggered to his feet. How long had he been asleep? Had he even slept? His stomach twisted with hunger as the door swung open and Dwight stepped inside, another dogfood sandwich in hand.

Dwight held the sandwich out and Daryl took it, not bothering to look up as he took a bite. Dwight watched him chew, the dogfood squishing between his teeth. He wanted to spit the food in Dwight’s face and kill him, then find Isaac and beat him to death. But he couldn’t risk it. Not now when he was barely strong enough to stand.

After a moment, Dwight turned and shut him inside the cell again.

* * *

“ _We’re on Easy Street, and it feels so sweet, ‘cause the world is but a treat when you’re on Easy Street..._ ”

Daryl’s eyes shot open and Dwight walked in, throwing another sandwich on the ground. Daryl gathered it in his hands and ate it, if only to soothe the ache in his stomach. How long had it been since he last ate? How long had he been in there?

* * *

“ _We’re on Easy Street, and it feels so sweet, ‘cause the world is but a treat when you’re on Easy Street..._ ”

A shiver ran up his spine and he pressed his forehead to the cold floor. The door swung open.

* * *

“ _We’re on Easy Street, and it feels so sweet, ‘cause the world is but a treat when you’re on Easy Street..._ ”

He huddled in the corner beside the door and Dwight threw another sandwich on the ground. Daryl ate it, further ingraining the taste of dog food on his tongue.

A pile of clothes fell over his head and he grabbed them as Dwight shut him inside again.

* * *

“ _We’re on easy street, and it feels so sweet, ‘cause the world is but a treat when you’re on easy street_ _..._ ”

Daryl wasn’t sure if the song was actually still playing or if it was just circling in his head like a record, forever looping around and around.

_“And we’re breaking out the good champagne. I’m sittin’ pretty on a gravy train. And when we sing, every sweet refrain repeats. Right here on Easy Street…”_

The door opened.

_"Oh, to a life that can’t be beat—”_

Dwight walked in, holding Daryl’s crossbow. He grabbed Daryl’s arm and yanked him up, hauling him out of the cell.

“Move,” Dwight ordered, pushing him down the hall.

Daryl staggered forward.

“Right.”

He went right. It felt good to move, to stretch his legs and get out of the damned cell. But where were they going? Was Negan finally bored? Were they going to finally kill him? As that stupid song rang in his head, he couldn’t help but hope they would.

They walked past two men mopping the floor, who stepped aside for them. They walked past a red chair sitting across the hall from a red door. Daryl could just see inside to find a comfortable looking room before Dwight shoved him on.

“Inside,” Dwight said, forcing him through a blue door.

It was the infirmary, and the doctor stood beside a woman in a dark, floral dress.

“Carson,” Dwight called.

“We were just finishing up,” Carson said as the woman shifted on the exam bed before stepping down.

“Chop-chop,” Dwight said.

“Hi, D,” the woman said.

Suddenly, Daryl realized who she was. He almost didn’t recognize her not covered in dirt and sweat.

“Hey,” Dwight greeted.

Sherry looked to Daryl.

“Daryl, right?” She asked.

“Don’t talk to him,” Dwight snapped before pushing Daryl toward the exam table.

Daryl climbed up and glanced to the tool tray resting beside him, a pink and white stick set out on the corner.

“It’s negative,” Sherry assured.

“Well, maybe next time,” Dwight sighed.

“Sorry, still getting used to being my own assistant,” Carson said as he gathered up the test and carried it to the bin.

Sherry walked up to Daryl.

“Whatever they say… just do it,” she warned.

“I said don’t talk to him,” Dwight hissed.

The two glared at each other before Sherry finally turned and left.

“Okay, let’s take a look,” Carson said, leaning behind Daryl and pulling the back of his sweater down to look at the bullet wound on his shoulder. “It’ll get better—if you let it. Negan will take care of you,” he said, replacing the sweater. “Trust me.”

Daryl suppressed his urge to scoff.

Once Carson finished replacing the bandage, Dwight took Daryl from the room to head back to the cell. They walked down the hall, the men from earlier only having moved a few feet in their mopping.

A figure came around the corner and Dwight pulled Daryl down, both of them getting to their knees against the wall.

“Dwighty boy,” Negan laughed. “I need to talk to my associate for a minute,” he said, waving the moppers off. “Go about your business.” He looked to the fat man behind him. “Except for you. You—stand right there.”

He pointed at the wall and the man placed himself as Dwight stood, pulling Daryl with him. Dwight dragged Daryl to the red chair and sat him down.

“Sit,” he commanded as he left and the fat man pulled out a revolver, aiming it at Daryl.

Daryl ignored the fat man and peered into the room across the hall. It was furnished to accommodate a single person comfortably with a single bed, an armchair, and a kitchenette. There was even a fern set atop a stocked bookshelf behind the brown leather armchair.

Dwight stepped around the corner and Daryl quickly averted his eyes from the room. Dwight grabbed his sweater and pulled him off the chair. They walked toward his cell and Daryl slowed his pace, unwilling to go back inside. He just wanted one more minute. That’s all.

But Dwight turned him away from the cell, and they continued down the hall until they came upon a heavy metal door. Daryl pushed it open and they stepped outside, the sunlight blinding Daryl for a moment. Dwight forced him down the stairs and to a chain-link fence.

Daryl’s vision cleared, and he could see the walkers scattered across the yard on the other side of the fence, men dressed just like him struggling to make their way out of the maze.

One was caught, holding a walker at bay but unable to push it away from him until Dwight fired an arrow into the walker’s skull.

“You know, I think I’m gettin’ the hang of this thing,” Dwight commented.

Daryl said nothing, watching as one man pulled a jug off of a walker’s head and ran away. He felt Dwight’s hand wrap around the back of his neck, then he shoved him against the fence, the chain-link rattling as Daryl brought his hands up to brace himself.

“That’s you, asshole. Unless you’re smart. Your choice. You could be like them or me,” Dwight said in his ear. “Or _them_.”

Daryl didn’t need to look at the walkers to know that’s who—what—Dwight meant.

* * *

Daryl hit the ground and he settled into the corner. Dwight stood at the door.

“Make it easy on yourself,” he said.

“I ain’t ever gonna kneel,” Daryl grunted.

“Yeah, I said that, too,” Dwight sighed.

“Yeah,” Daryl huffed. “I know.”

“See, that’s the thing, man. You don’t. But you’re gonna,” Dwight warned, shutting the door.

Daryl rolled his eyes and shook his head, reminding himself that Dwight was full of shit.

“ _We’re on Easy Street, and it feels so sweet, ‘cause the world is but a treat when you’re on Easy Street..._ ”

Daryl covered his ears, squeezing his eyes shut. He was going get out of this damned cell and the first thing he was going to do was destroy that fucking radio.

He jumped to his feet and ran his hands over the door frame in search of a weak spot.

_“And we’re breaking out the good champagne. I’m sittin’ pretty on a gravy train.”_

He pulled at the handle, but it didn’t budge. Daryl stood back and slammed his foot against the door.

“ _And when we sing, every sweet refrain repeats right here on Easy Street…”_

He reeled back and kicked again and again until his foot was numb and he resorted to slamming his fists against it.

_“Oh, to a life that can’t be beat right here on Easy Street. ‘Cause the world is but a treat when you’re on Easy Street…”_

He threw his good shoulder into the door only to stagger back, clutching his arm, a sharp pain in the joint.

_“Cause the world is but a treat when you’re on Easy Street.”_


	4. Chapter Three

_“Let's have a moment in the sun. The magic's only just begun. It's time to have a little fun. We want everybody to come and see why you should be on Easy Street…”_

Daryl sat in the corner, staring into the dark. His body ached and his stomach twisted and all he wanted was to sleep.

_“Yeah, we got a front-row seat. Oh, to a life that can't be beat Right here on Easy Street 'Cause the world is but a treat when you're on Easy Street…”_

The lock clicked and the door swung open, but it wasn’t Dwight holding the sandwich out to him. The fat man from earlier—or was it yesterday? The day before? —waited for him to take it. Daryl grabbed it from his hands and took a bite.

_“'Cause the world is but a treat when you're on Easy Street.”_

Finally, the man shut the door, but there was no click of the locks sliding back into place. The song started over again.

_“We’re on easy street, and it feels so sweet, ‘cause the world is but a treat when you’re on easy street. And we’re breaking out the good champagne. I’m sittin’ pretty on a gravy train.…”_

Daryl crawled over to the door and peered through the gap between the door and the floor. There was no sight of anyone.

_“It's time to have a little fun. We want everybody to come and see why you should be on Easy Street.”_

Carefully, he turned the knob and gently pushed the door open as quietly as possible.

_“Yeah, we got a front-row seat, oh, to a life that can't be beat, right here on Easy Street...”_

Daryl looked around the hall, finding it empty. He made his way down the hall, his bare feet padding against the tile as he turned one corner and then another, passing the red chair. He paused at the third corner and glanced around the wall to see a large man walk through a heavy metal door. He heard footsteps approaching from behind, and he quickly darted in the opposite direction.

He made it to another hall and peered around the corner when there was a tug on the back of his sweater. Daryl flinched and spun around, only to see Sherry standing there.

“Go back while you can,” she urged. “You know I did. Whatever he’s done to you, there’s _more_. There’s always more. You won’t get away. And when you’re back, it’ll be worse.”

Daryl glared at her but said nothing, and then he turned away, taking another glance around the corner before heading off.

He came up on a door with a little square window to the outside. He peered through it and saw a row of motorcycles parked to the left and no Saviors in sight.

Shoving the door open, Daryl made a run for the bikes, searching for one with a key in the ignition.

A door slammed open and Daryl whirled around to see three Saviors filing out. He ran for the door he’d come through, only for three more saviors to spill out. He turned and even still more came, that fat man among them, aiming a revolver at him.

He was surrounded, and that damn whistling filled the courtyard as Negan strolled into the circle, his bat resting on his shoulder.

“Are we pissin’ our pants yet?” Negan asked.

Daryl watched him as he dropped his bat to his side. He shifted his weight on his feet, preparing for a fight.

“Who are you?” Negan asked before pointing his bat at the fat man.

“Negan,” the fat man said.

“Who are...you?” Negan asked, pointing at the man directly behind him.

“Negan.”

“Who are you?” Negan asked once more, gesturing to the circle.

“Negan,” they echoed back.

“You see that? I am everywhere.” He smirked. “And this was your shot to prove to me that that fundamental fact was sinking in, and you failed. Which sucks, because your life was about to get so much cooler. Am I right?”

“Damn right,” the fat man said.

Negan stepped forward and hit the ground at Daryl’s feet with his bat. Daryl grunted and moved his feet out of the way as Negan hit closer to his toes. Negan chuckled.

“Now, Dwight gave you some options. I don’t think you get it yet. So, I’m gonna break it down for you. You get three choices.” Negan held up his index finger. “One, you wind up on the spike and you work for me as a dead man. Two,” he held up a second finger, “you get out of your cell, you work for points, but you’re gonna wish you were dead. Or three,” he held up a second finger, “you work for me, you get yourself a brand-new pair of shoes, and you live like a king! Choice seems pretty obvious.”

Daryl worked his jaw.

“You should know, there is no door number four,” Negan warned. “This is it. This is the only way.” When Daryl said nothing, Negan chuckled. “Screw it,” he said, reeling back and bringing his bat within a mere inch of Daryl’s face.

Daryl didn’t flinch—didn’t even blink. He just continued to glare.

“Wow! You don’t scare easy. I love that,” Negan said. “But Lucille—well, it kind of pisses her off. She finds it be disrespectful. Lucky for you, she’s not feeling too thirsty today. But I am,” he said, the smile dropping away from his face.

They glared at each other for a long moment.

“So, I’m gonna go get me a drink!” Negan suddenly laughed, heading out of the circle.

As he left, he began his whistle again and the Saviors surrounding Daryl started forward. Daryl turned about as the Saviors encroached on him. He slammed his fist against the nearest one and another shoved him down before the rest began punching and kicking at him.

* * *

Daryl’s mouth was swollen and he could feel bruises forming all over his body. He leaned against the wall, relishing the silence—only to hear soft footsteps. He looked to the gap and saw a shadow of someone stopped in front of the door.

“Daryl?” Sherry called.

He sighed and pressed his head into the wall.

“There’s so many things I wish I never found out. I wish I didn’t try,” she said. “Back in the woods after I lost Tina, when we took your stuff, when we decided to go back—I told you I was sorry, and you said, ‘You’re gonna be.’” There was a pause. “I am.”

Her footsteps trailed away until he was in silence again.

* * *

He sat there, trying his best to tune out the music and get some sleep, but the upbeat tempo kept his heart rate elevated and his brain throbbing.

_“Let’s have a moment in the sun—”_

The music suddenly stopped and the door swung open. Dwight held the sandwich to his face. Daryl turned his head away—he couldn’t chew it anyway. Dwight threw it to the ground and leaned against the door frame.

“Eat,” he said, his voice unusually gentle.

Daryl didn’t move.

“You got your friend killed,” Dwight began. “I got Tina killed. And don’t pretend like you don’t know the score.”

Daryl grabbed the sandwich and threw it at Dwight, the dog food smacking against his shoulder with a disgusting wet sound.

Dwight knelt beside him. “You should be dead,” he hissed. “But Negan’s taken a shine to you. You’re lucky. Don’t forget.”

He heard Dwight shift and watched as he leaned over him, sticking something to the wall.

“Bon Appetit,” he said before slamming and locking the door shut.

Daryl snatched the piece of paper off the wall and threw it to the ground, crossing his arms over his chest. After a moment, he glanced at the little square illuminated by the light that came in through the gap between the floor and the door.

He picked it up and slowly turned it over, tilting it toward the light. A lump formed in his throat and his chest constricted at the sight of Glenn laying on the ground, his head crushed. He could still hear the sound of the bat cracking against his skull.

Daryl set the photo down and pressed his head against the wall. He deserved this. Dwight was right. He got Glenn killed. It was his fault.

_“I was all right, for a while. I could smile for a while. But I saw you last night. You held my hand so tight as you stopped to say hello. Oh, you wished me well. You couldn’t tell that I’d been crying…”_

Unwillingly, a sob rose up from his chest. It was his fault Glenn was dead. It was his fault Maggie was all alone. His fault her son would grow up without a father. His fault. That’s all he could think as more and more sobs and tears wracked his body.

_"When you said, “so long” left me standing all alone. Alone and crying. Crying. Crying. Crying. It’s hard to understand, but the touch of your hand can start me crying. I thought that I was over you. But it’s true, so true…”_

* * *

“Step in,” Dwight ordered.

They were at the furnished room with the red chair across the hall, and Negan was lounging in the leather arm chair. Negan got to his feet, grabbing a glass of water from the side table as he inspected Daryl.

“Jesus. You look awful,” he commented. “Don’t worry, we’ll have Carson fix you all up. You thirsty? Here.” He held out the glass of water, and Daryl took it but did not drink. “Ah, hell, I forgot. Your mouth is all puffed up like a baboon’s ass. Need a straw? D, give him a straw. What’s wrong with you?”

Dwight crossed the room and grabbed a straw, returning to put the straw in Daryl’s glass.

“See that guy? He hustles. I like hustle. But believe it or not, things weren’t always cool between us,” Negan explained. “See, D here—he worked for points, him and his super-hot wife and her super-hot sister.”

Dwight snatched the glass from Daryl when he didn’t drink.

“But, see, sis—she needed meds and that shit is hard to scavenge, so it cost more. Sis fell behind on points, so I asked her to marry me.”

Daryl glanced at Negan, furrowing his brow.

“Told her I would take care of her in sickness and in health, blah, blah, blah—because I am a stand-up guy. She tells me that she’s gonna think about it,” Negan laughed. “Next thing you know, I’m dealing with an orange situation. Dwighty boy here stole all the medication and took off with his super-hot wife and my super-hot maybe soon-to-be fiancé.”

Negan tapped his bat against the tile, and both Dwight and Daryl flinched.

“So, I had to send my guys after him,” Negan continued. “Because I can’t let something like that stand. There are _rules_ ,” he said, emphasizing his words with his bat. “Cost me an arm and a leg going after him. And you know what—Dwighty boy?” He chuckled. “He still got away. But here’s the thing. D—he saw the light. He manned up. He came back. He asked for my forgiveness. I like that. Made me take notice. But Lucille. Well—you know how she is,” he said, leaning in close. “She is a stickler for the rules.

“So, Dwight, he begged me not to kill Sherry, which I thought was kind of cute—so I was just gonna kill him. But then Sherry says that she will marry me if I let Dwight live, which, if you think about it, that’s a pretty screwed-up deal, ‘cause I was gonna marry her sister until she wound up dead, but Sherry is super-hot. Anyways, it was a start. But it wasn’t enough so Dwight, he got the iron.”

Daryl looked to Dwight, taking in the scarred half of his face.

“And then I married his super-hot wife— _ex_ -wife,” Negan corrected. “And then after all that, he still got on board. And now look at him. _Pow!_ One of my top guys and we are totally cool. The point being,” he said, turning to Daryl. “I think you can be that guy. I think you are ready to be that guy. You look around here. This?” He gestured to the room. “Well, it can all be yours. All you got to do is answer one simple question. Who are you?”

Daryl said nothing.

“What? Does the cat got your tongue? You’re just overwhelmed by the awesomeness of this? I’m gonna ask you one more time.”

Negan stepped in close and held the bat next to Daryl’s face.

“Who are you?”

Memories flooded Daryl’s mind, memories of Glenn and Rick, Maggie and Hershel, of Beth. Then Anna came to the surface, her smiling face as she showed him that stupid papier-mâché bird.

“Daryl.”

“Oh,” Negan sighed.

“This is the only—”

“Hey,” Negan snapped, cutting Dwight off. “It’s cool, D. He made his choice. Ain’t my problem if he made a dumbass choice.” 

* * *

Dwight threw Daryl in the cell and he settled in the corner.

“You’re gonna wind up in that room or hanging on the fence!” Dwight shouted.

“I get why you did it,” Daryl said, his voice a calm contrast to the anger on Dwight’s face. “Why you took it,” he went on when he knew he had Dwight’s attention. “You were thinkin’ about someone else.”

They stared at each other.

“That’s why I can’t,” Daryl finally said.

Dwight clenched his jaw and shut the door, the locks clicking into place. The music didn’t turn on as Dwight left, his steps echoing down the hall until they disappeared.


	5. Chapter Four

The room was dark, the only light coming from the sun filtering through the gray curtains as it illuminated the pathetic figure on the queen-sized bed. Anna curled on her side, a trembling and sobbing mess. At some point she had fallen asleep—she wasn’t sure for how long—and she woke up with the crack of wood against skull ringing in her ears. She wrapped her arms around herself as another bout of sobs ran through her.

Jessie had come some time earlier to try to get her to eat but she refused, choosing instead to lock the door. He, Rick, and Michonne came by periodically to check on her, only to be ignored.

Anna was sure she should have gone with Maggie and Sasha to Hilltop. But all she could think to do in the moment was return to Alexandria with the others. She wanted to go home and drown herself in the memory of Daryl, so she wore his sleeping clothes and hugged his pillow, clutching his note in her hand.

_Be back for dinner_.

Most of all she wanted to hide.

_“I’ll see you soon.”_

Her skin still tingled from where Isaac’s hand had trailed over her back.

Glenn was supposed to be alive, and Abraham. Daryl was supposed to be lying beside her. Isaac, he was supposed to be rotting on the forest floor. He wasn’t supposed to be here.

Her fingers trailed over the scar running from her right temple to the top of her cheekbone. Her fingers twitched and she reached for her thigh.

Anna jumped as the bedroom door swung open. Rosita stood there with a hairpin and a satisfied smirk on her face.

“Come on,” she said, walking into the room. “Get up.”

“Go away,” Anna muttered, pulling the blankets over her body.

“No. We’re going on a supply run. Gotta be ready for when _Negan_ gets here,” she said, spitting the man’s name. “Besides, you’ve been in here long enough.”

“Go away,” Anna repeated, her voice muffled by the blankets.

“You are getting up and you are coming with me,” Rosita said, yanking the blankets off.

Anna curled tighter around herself.

“You’re pathetic,” Rosita scoffed.

_"Pathetic,” Isaac sneered._

“You know, you aren’t the only one who lost someone,” Rosita snapped. “Glenn is dead, Abraham—” her voice cracked, “—Abraham is dead. Daryl’s gone, but at least he’s still alive.”

“At least,” Anna mocked.

“Oh, you think you have it so bad?” Rosita asked, her voice jarring. “I lost Abraham _three times_. Once to Sasha, once to Negan, and again when Sasha took his body. Maggie lost her husband—the father of her child! Your boyfriend gets kidnapped and all you can do is lock yourself away like some broken little princess. Daryl is _alive_ and you can’t even lift a finger to help him. Why? ‘Cause little Annie is scared?”

Anna shot up and stared at Rosita, her eyes wide and brow furrowed. Rosita took a step back.

“Don’t _ever_ call me that again,” Anna hissed. “Get out. Now.”

Rosita took a step away as Anna rose from the bed. She backed the Rosita up until she was standing in the hall. Anna said nothing as she glared at the woman and slammed the door shut.

* * *

Anna walked out of the bathroom, switching off the light as she dragged herself back to bed. Her hair was still damp from the frenzied shower she’d taken in an attempt to scrub Isaac’s touch from her skin. Rosita was right; she was pathetic. She pulled the blanket aside, ready to huddle beneath it, when the front door opened and slammed shut and footsteps traveled hastily down the hall.

There was a knock at her door.

“Go away,” Anna huffed.

The knocking continued and she crossed the room, ripping the door open.

“What?” She snapped.

Jessie stood on the other side, a worried look in his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak when a voice came from behind him.

“Annie.”

She tensed and peered over his shoulder to see Isaac trailing down the hall, glancing inside the doors on either side.

“Good to see you again,” he greeted, stopping just behind Jessie. “Why don’t you give us old friends some space, Jess,” Isaac said, gesturing for Jessie to step back.

“I don’t think—”

“That wasn’t a request,” Isaac warned. “You don’t have to worry; Annie and I go way back. She’s in good care with me,” he assured, patting Jessie on the shoulder before pushing his way into the room.

Anna quickly moved aside, putting three feet of space between them.

“Nice room,” Isaac said, looking around as he pushed the door closed, shutting them in and Jessie out. “A little messy for my taste.”

He walked over to the bed and pulled the blankets out flat before fluffing Daryl’s pillow. Anna kept her eyes on the ground, unwilling to look at him.

“Why so dark in here?” He asked, looking to Anna. “Turn on the light.”

Anna reached over and flipped the switch, the overhead coming to life.

“Ah, that’s much better. Is this where your closet is?” He asked, pointing to the bathroom.

She nodded.

“Great, let’s get you dressed,” he said, clapping his hands—the sudden noise made her jump.

He walked into her bathroom, switching on the light, and pulled the closet door open. He rifled through her hanging clothes, inspecting each article before moving on to the next.

Anna glanced to her hunting knife resting on the counter. She looked between Isaac and the knife, her fingers twitching. He wasn’t looking. She could slit his throat or jam the blade through his ear.

"Perfect,” he sighed, turning to her, and she took a step away from the counter. “Here. Put it on,” he said, handing her a blue, short-sleeved dress covered in pink flowers that reached her knees.

With shaky hands, Anna placed the dress on the counter, covering the knife, and pulled the black T-Shirt over her head. She could feel Isaac’s eyes trailing over her body.

“What happened here?” He asked gently, his fingers finding purchase on the scar on her side.

“Nothing,” Anna said quietly.

“Now, now—you know that’s not how this works. Have you forgotten your manners already?” Isaac chided. “I ask, you answer.”

“We were attacked by some people. I fought one of them and she had a knife,” she said quickly, taking a deep breath after, just wishing he’d stop touching her.

“You’re just covered in scars,” he mused. “From me, from others—from yourself.”

He pulled his hand away, and she continued to strip out of Daryl’s night clothes until she stood in only her underwear.

“Wait. Let me get a good look at you,” Isaac said, holding up his hand. “Turn for me.”

She ground her teeth and made a slow turn where she stood until she was facing him again.

“That’s a good girl,” he grinned. “Now, get dressed. Lots to do.”

* * *

Isaac strolled into the office, scanning the bookshelves before picking up random items from the desk.

“A laptop?” He asked, raising a brow at her. “Look at you, movin’ up in the world.”

He shut the computer and sat down in the chair, propping his feet up on the desk.

“What exactly do you do here, Annie?” He asked as he fiddled with the pieces of paper scattered on the desk.

She jumped as a gunshot rang out and she looked over her shoulder.

“I asked you a question,” Isaac said.

“I’m a Historian,” she muttered, turning back when there wasn’t another shot.

“Speak up, Annie.”

“I’m a Historian,” she repeated more loudly. “I record the major events here.”

“Isn’t that cute,” Isaac sneered as he pulled drawers open and pushed them shut. “I’m bored,” he said, standing suddenly.

Anna jumped back, pressing herself against the door.

“Aw, don’t be like that,” he cooed, walking slowly around the desk to stand in front of her.

She flinched as he trailed his fingers over the scar on her face and down to her lips.

“Your new boyfriend wouldn’t like this, would he?” He asked, his breath tickling her lips as he leaned in closer. “Maybe we should ask him. Don’t move.” Isaac ordered as he backed away from her and out of the office.

Anna let out a long breath, her body shaking as she wrapped her arms around herself. She looked to the floor and counted the rings in the hardwood, trying to steady herself. All she wanted to do was run and hide and cry, but her legs felt like cement. So, she closed her eyes.

She heard two sets of footsteps approaching, one quieter than the other, and she took a deep breath. When the footsteps stopped in front of her, she slowly opened her eyes, looking first at the black boots then to the bare feet. Her eyes trailed up the form, taking in the sweat suit and the orange ‘A’ seemingly spray painted on the front. It looked and smelled as though it hadn’t been washed in months. Finally, she looked at Daryl’s face, obscured by the tangled, oily mess of his hair. It was clear he’d been beaten, and from the bags under his eyes, hadn’t slept much.

“Daryl,” Anna breathed.

“Ah, ah,” Isaac said, holding up his hand. “I have one rule for this little rendezvous. You are not allowed to speak to or look at Daryl. Am I clear?”

Anna grinded her teeth, turning her eyes to the wall behind him.

“That’s a good girl,” Isaac grinned. “Now, I just want you to answer a couple of questions for me—so that Daryl here really grasps the nature of our relationship.”

Isaac came to stand beside Anna, wrapping his arm around her shoulders as she dropped her hands to her sides, her fingers twitching at her thigh.

“First question; did I or did I not save your life when we first met?” He asked, squeezing her gently.

Anna said nothing. It was a familiar idea he’d repeated over and over again. _“I saved your life. You should be thanking me.”_ She loathed to admit it, but he was right. If he hadn’t found her after Anderson, she would have gotten lost in those woods and starved to death—if she didn’t get eaten by a walker first.

“Annie,” Isaac said. “Answer the question.”

“Yes,” she finally said, working her jaw.

“Wonderful,” Isaac praised. “Next question; has he—” he pointed at Daryl then to her, “—fucked you?”

Anna’s face heated and she grabbed a fistful of her dress’s skirt and clutched it so tightly her knuckles turned white.

“Yes,” she said, her voice cracking.

“But I fucked you first, right?” He asked, leaning in close so that his lips brushed against her ear.

Anna blinked at the tears in her eyes. She tried to force her answer past the rock in her throat, but no sound came out. She clamped her mouth shut and closed her eyes as tears slid down her cheeks. She nodded.

“That’s right,” he said, pulling away from her. “See, Daryl—what a good girl she is. And what do good girls get, Annie?”

“Rewarded,” she managed to say.

"You can look at him now,” Isaac crooned. “Not much of a reward, if you ask me, but I’m sure you’re dying to, huh Annie?”

She kept her eyes closed and bowed her head, sucking in a shuddering breath. She didn’t want to look at him. But she slowly opened and raised her eyes to meet his. He stared back at her; his face was expressionless.

_No. Don’t hate me. Please. Not you._

“Well, this has been a lot of fun, but I think it’s time for you to get back to work. Lots of stuff to load up,” Isaac said, clapping his hands and shooing Daryl away.

Daryl turned and walked out of the office, disappearing down the hall. Anna choked back a sob and wiped at her face as Isaac moved to stand in front of her, hands in his pockets.

“That was somethin’ else,” Isaac said. “I mean, did you see the look on his face? I think he might be a little upset,” he chuckled.

The smile slowly fell away from his face as he looked at her puffy eyes and red face.

“Don’t worry about him. What he’s going through—it’s his own fault,” Isaac assured. “Things would be a lot better for him if he’d just kneel.”

Anna’s eyes flicked to his and she furrowed her brow.

“Like you did?”

Isaac’s hazel eyes darkened the split second before his right hand whipped up to strike her across the face. Her body jerked to the side with the force of the hit, and she instinctively stepped down on her left foot to keep from falling. The pain in her right cheekbone pulsated along to the rapid rhythm of her heart pounding in her chest.

“Don’t you ever talk to me like that again,” Isaac hissed. “What do we say when we’ve been bad?”

Anna pressed her fingertips to her cheek and winced as she straightened, happy that Isaac didn’t wear rings.

With a loud thud, Anna was shoved against the door, slamming it back against the wall, the doorknob undoubtedly leaving a hole. Isaac’s hand was in her hair, pulling tight as he held her in place.

“What do we say when we’ve been bad?” He repeated, his voice a low growl in her ear.

Anna squeezed her eyes shut; her teeth bared in pain as he twisted her hair in his hand.

“Look at me, Annie.” She opened her eyes and looked at him, fresh tears gathering along her bottom lids. “What do we say when we’ve been bad?”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

He let go and stepped back but she remained pressed against the door, too afraid of what he might do if she even thought of moving. Isaac straightened his shirt and smoothed out his dirty-blond hair, his face impassive.

“Alright, I forgive you,” he said calmly. “But, I’ve gotta take your guns—boss’s orders.”


	6. Chapter Five

Standing beside Rick, Anna watched as Daryl set her rifle and 9mm in the back of the hauling truck, along with the other guns Alexandria had amassed. Still, there were more guns and ammo for the Saviors to carry out. Daryl walked back inside the armory.

“You know what today is, Rick? Today is a banner day,” Negan declared from where he stood with Isaac across from them. “Yes, it is. I think this little arrangement we have is gonna work out just fine. Hold up,” he said as Daryl returned with an arm full of rifles and a handgun.

Negan took the handgun and checked the clip.

“Let’s see if you’ve been taking care of my guns,” he said, cocking it and aiming it at Daryl.

Anna tensed but willed herself not to move as Daryl turned from the truck and walked back inside the armory, unfazed. Negan lifted the gun and fired into a window; he laughed as the casing clattered to the brick walkway.

“Feels good,” he grinned. “Sounds good! Oh, I do believe Lucille’s gettin’ a little jealous.”

Anna glanced at the bat wrapped in barbed wire that Rick held at his side.

“Well, holy smokes!” Negan called as a Savior exited the armory carrying a rocket launcher.

The man handed the weapon to Negan and took the handgun, carrying it on to the truck before returning to the armory.

“Look at this,” he said, excitedly. “It was you guys that took out Little Timmy and The Dick Brigade? Wow, Rick. Gettin’ in your last licks. Oh, man, I’m gonna have fun with this.”

“Please, I don’t know where—”

Anna turned to see Olivia being shoved up the stairs and toward them by a woman with bleached, curly hair.

“Arat, we don’t do that,” Negan scolded, “unless they do something to deserve it.”

“Yeah, we went through the inventory,” Arat explained. “Guns in the armory, guns they had around the walls—they’re short.” She handed Negan Olivia’s blue notebook. “Glock 9 and a .22 Bobcat.”

“Is that true?” Negan asked, looking to Rick.

“We had some people leave town. Those guns probably went with them,” Rick reasoned.

“So, Olivia sucks at her job. Is that what you’re saying?” Negan asked.

“No. No, I’m not sayin’ that,” Rick said.

“There should be a full accounting here, right? Top to bottom,” Negan said as he turned to Olivia. “Am I right?”

“No,” Olivia said, “I mean, yes. The inventory is correct,” she amended quickly.

“Good. But not so good, too,” Negan said, pursing his lips. “You see, what’s in here isn’t in there. You’re two handguns short. Do you know where they are?”

“No. I—” Olivia stopped herself as Negan sighed and looked to Rick.

“That’s disappointing, Rick. I thought that we had an understanding. But this—well, this shows that someone’s not on board, and I can’t have that.” He looked to Olivia. “I don’t enjoy killing women. Men—I can waste them all the live long. But at the end of the day, Olivia, my dear, this was your responsibility.”

“Look, we can work this out,” Rick tried.

“Oh, yes, we can,” Negan agreed. “And I’m going to—right now.”

Olivia whimpered, her bottom lip trembling as she held back tears.

“That was your job,” Negan said, looking back to Olivia. “You screwed up. Keeping track of guns? That shit is life and death.”

* * *

Everyone was gathered in the church and Anna sat beside Jessie in the pew. Rick stood at the front, looking at Negan’s bat resting on a table before he eventually turned to them.

“I thought about hiding some of the guns,” he started. “I did it before. I figured I could bury some out there. Maybe we don’t touch them for years.”

“Years?” Scott asked.

“Yeah, that’s right. But what if the Saviors find those guns?” He asked. “What if we run into them when we have those guns on us? One of us dies. Maybe more than that. Maybe a lot more. Doesn’t matter how many bullets we have. It isn’t enough. They win. It’s that black-and-white,” he explained. “Hiding a couple of guns isn’t the answer, not anymore.”

“What happened to your face?” Jessie asked quietly, not looking away from Rick.

“Don’t worry about it,” Anna whispered.

“Was it that guy? Did he hit you? Who is he?”

“That’s not what’s important right now,” Anna hissed.

“We don’t have to like it, but we need to give them over. A Glock 9 and a .22. That’s what they’re looking for,” Rick went on. “Who has them? Someone knows where they are, or they know who does. If we don’t find them, they’re gonna kill Olivia. They’ll do it.”

“Why do they care?” Scott asked, standing. “Two guns aren’t a threat to them. But those guns could help protect us from whatever else is out there.”

“Do you have ‘em?” Rick asked.

“Wish I did,” Scott said, shaking his head and sitting down.

“Most of you weren’t there,” Rick began. “You didn’t have to watch.”

Anna grimaced at the memory.

“But you can look away now when someone else dies, or you can help solve this. We give them what they want, and we live in peace,” Rick insisted.

“Say we find the guns,” Eric said, getting to his feet. “How are we gonna get out of this, Rick?”

“There is no way out of this,” Rick sighed. “Let me put this to all of you as clearly as I can. I’m not in charge anymore. Negan is. Now, who has the guns?”

A few people muttered among themselves but no one came forward.

“Not everyone’s here,” Eugene finally pointed out.

* * *

“Tell me who hit you,” Jessie demanded as they walked down the street.

Anna worked her jaw as she gently pressed on the bruise forming on her cheek.

“It doesn’t matter,” she insisted.

“It does matter,” Jessie snapped. “Was it him? What’s his name? Isaac?”

Anna stopped short and turned to him.

“It doesn’t matter who hit me or why, because you’re not going to do anything. Understood?”

“But—”

“No,” she hissed. “You do something—anything—you’ll get yourself killed, or someone else. Do you want that?”

Jessie glared down at her before shaking his head and looking away.

“It was that guy, wasn’t it?” He asked. “He said you were old friends. You knew him?”

“Jess—”

“Balloons?”

Anna turned about and saw a burly Savior standing in front of Enid, a little too close for comfort, and also surrounded by four other men.

“You goin’ to a party, little girl?” He asked, his hand full of green balloons.

“Can I keep them please?” Enid ground out. “It’s just… please, let me keep them.”

Without thought, Anna started towards them.

“Anna, wait,” Jessie called quietly, but Anna didn’t stop.

“Say please again, little girl,” the Savior said, stepping closer, his voice low.

“Please,” Enid said.

“Yeah, one more time,” he said, running a finger down Enid’s cheek.

Anna pulled Enid behind her, standing between them. She said nothing as she glared up at the man. The man straightened, frowning at Anna.

“This isn’t any of your business,” he said.

“I doubt harassing a teenager is any of yours,” Anna sneered.

The man smirked at her. “What? You want all the attention for yourself?” He asked, stepping into her space. “I can do that—”

“David.”

Anna tensed at Isaac’s voice, but kept her eyes on David as Isaac approached.

“You’ve all got better things to do,” Isaac admonished. “I suggest getting it done. Now.”

“Yes, sir,” David ground out before he and the others began to stalk away.

“David,” Isaac called, making the man stop. “The girl’s stuff.”

David dropped Enid’s backpack and balloons to the ground before he finally left, grumbling under his breath.

Isaac stepped over to Enid’s belongings and picked them off the ground, dusting them off before holding them out to Anna and Enid.

“Sorry about that,” Isaac said, smiling.

Anna didn’t move to take the items, too focused on trying not to shake under his gaze. Enid stepped around her and took her things back.

“Thank you,” she said.

“I promise, we’re not all like that,” Isaac grinned apologetically. “Now, if you’ll excuse me,” he said as he left them to join Negan and Rick.

Anna immediately turned to Enid.

“Are you okay?” She asked, checking the teen over.

“I’m okay,” Enid assured. “I should go,” she said, walking around Anna.

“Enid, wait,” Anna called, and she turned back. “You need to be careful. You shouldn’t be going anywhere alone.”

“I’m fine,” Enid said. “I’ll be okay.”

And with that, Enid turned on her heel and walked off.

Anna let out a huff as she watched Enid turn the corner and disappear.

“Anna.”

She turned to Rick as he approached. Over his shoulder, she could see Isaac speaking with Negan as the truck carrying their guns started down the road to the front gate.

“They’re gettin’ ready to leave,” Rick said. “Hey, you okay?”

Anna looked back to Rick and nodded.

“What happened?” He asked, gesturing to his cheek.

“I’ll tell you about it later,” Anna said, bowing her head when her eyes landed on the bat.

_Lucille._

Rick turned the bat in his hand, sighing, and Anna looked up.

“It’ll be over soon,” he said.

* * *

They gathered at the front gates as two of the trucks headed off; one carrying their guns, the other carrying most of the mattresses. A tan van driven by Spencer pulled into the gate, followed by Rosita in the car. They both parked just inside and got out of their respective vehicles.

“Hell of a place you got here, Rick,” Negan praised, stopping at the gates and turning to Rick.

“Give me a second,” Rick requested.

“No,” Negan said simply, smirking.

“Please, can you just—” Rick took a breath. “Give me a second?”

Negan stuck his tongue in his cheek and smiled before he finally nodded and Rick headed off to the burnt house just outside the gate. Anna wondered what he was doing.

She kept her arms crossed over her chest, feeling exposed in the dress Isaac had picked out for her. David leered at her from beside Negan, and Spencer unloaded Daryl’s bike from the van. They stood quietly, waiting for Rick to return as Negan leaned against what looked like a UPS truck and hummed to himself.

Finally, after a few minutes ticked by, Rick exited the burnt house with Michonne, who carried a small deer across her shoulders.

“Look at this!” Negan said when he noticed their approach.

“I thought she was scavenging. She was hunting,” Rick explained, holding a very large rifle out to Negan. “This one never came inside. We kept it near the line.”

“Look at this,” Negan said again. “This is something to build a relationship on. Good for you, Rick. This is reading the room and gettin’ the message. I’ve said it before, I’m gonna say it again. You, sir, are special.”

“Now that you know we can follow your rules,” Rick began.

“Yes?” Negan prompted.

“I’d like to ask you if Daryl can stay.”

“Not happenin’,” Negan laughed.

Anna’s chest constricted and she bit her cheek as Rick narrowed his eyes at Negan.

“You know what? I don’t know. Maybe Daryl can plead his case,” Negan said, turning to Daryl.

Anna glanced at Isaac, who was standing behind Negan. Underneath his usual smug expression, Anna could see by the set of his jaw that he was irritated.

“Maybe Daryl can sway me. Daryl?”

Anna looked to Daryl, waiting for him to say something—anything.

_Please._

All he did was stare at Negan. Anna turned her head away, her eyes landing back on Isaac. The irritation was replaced by a hint of satisfaction—he met her gaze then, and gave her a slight smirk.

“Well, you tried,” Negan chuckled, looking back to Rick. “Now what you got to do is get over that tall wall of yours and try harder out there. Earn for me. Because we’re coming back soon, and when we do, you better have something interesting for us, or Lucille, she’s gonna have her way. I want you to hear that again,” he said, stepping closer. “If you don’t have something interesting for us, somebody’s gonna die. And no more magic guns. Arat, grab that deer. It’s getting late. Let’s go home.”

Michonne glared at Negan and threw the deer from her shoulders before stalking off.

“Man, I love a gal that buys me dinner and doesn’t expect me to put out,” Negan laughed.

“I’ll take that,” Dwight said, walking up to Spencer and patting the seat of Daryl’s bike.

Spencer looked between Dwight and Anna before walking back to the van. Dwight turned his attention on Rosita.

“Rosita,” he said mockingly. “Got a little thank-you.” He tossed Rosita’s hat to her. “That’s all you’re getting back. Took all your guns, most of your beds. I hope you find a place to lay your pretty little head. Did you find anything else out there?”

“Just your dead friends,” Rosita said, positioning her hat on her head.

Dwight scoffed and climbed aboard the bike, starting it up. He drove around in a half-circle until he came up in front of Daryl and stopped.

“You can have it back. Just say the word,” he said.

Daryl glared at him and he revved the engine, speeding away.

“Come on,” Isaac said, walking over to Daryl. “Time to go.” He grabbed a hold of Daryl’s arm and pulled him toward the green army truck, only for Daryl to tear his arm away and stalk off, passing Anna before he climbed into the back of the truck—without a single glance at her. Isaac loaded in after him.

The engines roared to life, and Negan climbed into the passenger side of the army truck. It pulled out of the gates. Anna watched as they drove away. Daryl finally brought his eyes up and looked at her, his face unreadable as they disappeared around the corner.

* * *

Anna stood in her bedroom, the mattress and box spring gone from the bedframe, the sheets, blankets, and pillows strewn across the floor. Silently, she made her way to her closet, hoping to find what she was looking for.

But the shoe boxes had been thrown to the ground, along with her backpack and its contents. She dropped to the floor and pushed the pile of clothes aside, then picked up her pack and dug through it. The rations she’d stored were gone. And the ammunition.

She let out a frustrated cry and threw the pack against the wall, falling back against the door and running her hand down her face. The Saviors had taken everything—almost everything. Enough to get the message across. Alexandria, the people in it, and everything they had belonged to Negan. They were stuck, and there wasn’t shit they could do about it.

Taking a deep breath, Anna pushed herself to her feet and walked back into the bedroom. She scanned the room, looking over the mess; her eyes landed on the stick leaning against the wall. She thought bitterly on how lucky Morgan and Carol were for having gotten away.

Anna made her way around the room, collecting her blankets and pillows and carrying them into the closet, creating a nest in the corner. She took a few steps back until she stood in the bathroom, in front of the vanity mirror.

Her eyes trailed from the bruise slowly forming on her right cheek to the dress she still wore. Anna’s chest heaved and she quickly yanked the dress off, a seam ripping as she pulled it over her head and threw it onto the counter. It felt like her throat was closing up as she tried to suck air into her lungs. She braced herself against the counter, her hand hitting the hilt of the knife still resting there.

She grabbed it, dropping its sheath to the floor; she slashed the blade through the soft fabric. The sound of the fabric ripping filled the bathroom over and over again until she was clutching tatters. She let the pieces fall to the floor and tossed the knife back onto the counter with a clatter before stepping back into the closet.

Anna pulled on another one of Daryl’s t-shirts and turned out the light. She wrapped herself in the blankets and settled against the pillows as she kicked the door closed, plunging her into darkness.


	7. Chapter Six

Anna jolted awake, her breathing rapid as she stared into the darkness. When she remembered where she was, Anna sunk back against her pillows and pulled the blanket tighter, attempting to even out her breathing. She tried to convince herself that it was just a nightmare, but the throbbing in her cheek was real—they were dead, Isaac wasn’t, and Daryl was gone.

“Anna?” She vaguely heard Jessie call from the other side of the door. “Anna, are you in here?”

Through the crack under the door, Anna could see shadow as Jessie walked into the bathroom.

“Where is she?” He grumbled.

His boots echoed on the tile as he came to stand in front of the closet door. After a pause, he knocked.

“Are you in there?”

She didn’t reply.

“If you’re in there, Tara’s here. She’s here to see you.”

Anna pressed her palms into her eyes and let out a groan. She’d forgotten about Tara. There was only one reason she would be looking for Anna, and she wasn’t going to make the woman wait like Lindsey’s parents had to.

Untangling herself from the blanket, Anna got to her feet and ran her hand over the wall until she found the switch and turned on the light. She pulled a pair of jeans down and put them on before she took a breath and opened the door.

Jessie stepped to the side to allow her to exit.

“When did you start hiding in closets again?” He asked as she walked past.

She ignored him and the pieces of dress scattered across the bathroom floor and made her way to the office. Down the hall, Anna could see Tara sitting on the couch in the living room. She turned into the office and quickly found the CD, thankful that the room had been mostly left intact—the only thing missing was the orange soda Denise had fought to get for Tara.

Anna walked out of the office and down the hall. Tara stood as she approached; her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy. Anna said nothing as she offered the disc.

Tara breathed deeply as she took the CD.

“Thank you,” she said, clearing her throat.

Anna wanted to say she was sorry, but the words wouldn’t come out.

“Um, Rosita said that you were there—that you and Daryl buried her,” Tara said. “I just… thank you.”

Anna bowed her head and shifted on her feet before looking back at Tara.

“Denise wanted you to know that she loved you, too,” Anna managed to say, her voice rough.

Tara inhaled sharply and her bottom lip began to tremble as she nodded.

“Thank you,” she whispered as she wrapped her arms around Anna.

Anna stiffened but returned the hug until the woman let go.

“I’m gonna go now,” Tara said, starting toward the door.

Anna said nothing as Tara walked out of the house. Jessie shut the door behind her and turned to Anna.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

“I’m fine,” she said, starting back to her room.

“You’re not, though,” he said.

“Then why did you ask?” She snapped, pausing.

“You haven’t hidden in a closet since you were a kid,” Jessie said, moving toward her. “It was that Isaac guy, wasn’t it? He said he knew you. Who is he?”

“Jess—”

“Tell me.”

Anna took a breath and ran her hands through her hair, pulling at the ends. She kept her back to him as she finally spoke.

“He’s the one who gave me the scar. He was….” She paused, wondering how she was going to tell him this part without crying. “He was one of the men who found me after the farm.”

“You said they were dead—that Marley and her group killed them,” Jessie said.

“I thought he was. I saw him. He was bleeding on the ground. He wasn’t breathing.” Anna shook her head. “He’s not supposed to be here,” she breathed.

“Anna,” Jessie said, and she heard him take a few steps toward her. “I won’t let him hurt you again. I’ll kill him.”

“You can’t,” Anna said, whirling around to face him. “If you do anything, Jess, you’ll die. I can’t lose you too. Promise me you won’t,” she begged.

“Anna—”

“Promise me.”

Jessie pressed his lips together and furrowed his brow at her. Finally, he nodded.

“I promise.”

* * *

* * *

Daryl yanked the chain tight around the walker, using the metal pipe to keep it away from him. A burst of gunfire erupted from somewhere, riling up the walker even more; it snarled and swiped at him, but Daryl moved beyond its reach, ducking under the chain.

He faced the chain-link to see Carl on the ground, Dwight hovering over him with a rifle.

“Is that any way to treat our new guest?” Negan asked, and Dwight let off.

Daryl had to take his attention away for a moment to dodge a walker, held on a chain by 

another prisoner struggling to secure it to the fence.

_Why the hell did he take the kid?_

“Come on, kid. I will show you around,” Negan said as he held his hand out to help Carl to his feet.

Carl merely glared back at him.

“You know, you do the same damn stink-eye as your dad, except it’s only half as good ‘cause well, you know, you’re missing an eye,” Negan laughed. “Really? You’re really not gonna take my hand? ‘Cause you’re lucky you even still have a hand. Same as your boy Daryl over here, now that I think about it.”

Carl looked at Daryl.

“How’s the job going, Daryl? Hot enough for you?” Negan taunted. “Yeah, it’d be tough with one arm.”

Finally, Carl took his hand, and Negan pulled him to his feet.

“Ah, smart kid. Dwighty-boy,” Negan called turning to Dwight. “Why don’t you grab Daryl, take him to the kitchen, do a little grub prep.”

Dwight went to the gate and opened it just wide enough for Daryl to squeeze through. He grabbed a fistful of Daryl’s sweater and pulled him along as Negan gave orders to burn the dead. Daryl tried to keep his eyes on Carl for as long as possible until Dwight pulled him inside and shut the door.

* * *

Daryl carried the plate of fruits into the room, careful not to drop any as he stood to Dwight’s right, Dwight holding a fistful of his sweater to keep him still. He immediately searched the room for Carl, finding him standing by himself a few feet away. Daryl turned to Negan to see Sherry kissing him. He and Dwight both stood awkwardly until the two noticed their entrance.

Negan pulled away and chuckled, walking over to them to grab a grape off the tray with a toothpick. He gestured to Carl.

“Carl, will you grab this tray for me?”

Carl reached for the tray, and Daryl handed it over.

“Why you got him here?” Daryl asked in a low voice.

“Whoa! What we talk about when you're not here is none of your business,” Negan said; he turned to glance at Sherry before looking back at Daryl and holding up the toothpick. “Do not make me put this toothpick through the only eye he has.

“You go with Dwight,” Negan ordered. “He'll get you a mop. Dwighty boy, fire up that furnace. I'll be down in a few. Time for a little Deja vu. Come on kid,” Negan said, pushing between Dwight and Daryl and leading Carl out of the room.

Daryl watched them go until they were gone and turned back to Sherry, who stood stoically. Dwight grabbed Daryl’s arm and pulled him toward the door. Daryl yanked his arm away but followed him, nonetheless.

* * *

Dwight stood at the furnace, staring into the flames as Daryl stood leaning against the mop just behind the man, Mark, who was tied to the chair. The Saviors gathered around, whispering as they waited for their leader to arrive.

It fell silent when a clang of wood against metal erupted from above, and they turned to see Negan walking down the catwalk, followed by Carl. Everyone, including Daryl, kneeled.

“Hold that for me,” Negan said, handing Lucille to Carl before leaning against the railing to address his people. “You know the deal. What’s about to happen is gonna be hard to watch. I don’t want to do it. I wish I could just ignore the rules and let it slide, but I can’t. Why?” He asked, starting down the stairs, Carl just behind him.

“The rules keep us alive,” everyone answered.

Daryl remained silent.

“That is right. We survive,” he said, stopping on the landing. “We provide security to others. We bring civilization back to this world. We are the Saviors. But we can’t do that without rules. Rules are what make it all work. I know it’s not easy. But there’s always work. There is always a cost. Here,” Negan said, gesturing around him, “if you try to skirt it, if you try to cut that corner—” he shouted before chuckling, “then it is the iron for you. On your feet.”

Everyone stood as Negan finally made it to the lower level and entered the center of the gathering. He patted Mark’s face as he passed.

“D,” he said, pulling on a thick glove.

Dwight reached into the furnace with a hook and pulled out a glowing red iron. Negan took the iron and turned to Mark.

“Mark, I’m sorry,” Negan said. “But it is what it is.”

Without further discussion, Negan walked up to Mark and pressed the iron against the side of his face. Daryl winced at Mark’s cries of agony, the sizzling of his skin and the smell of burning flesh.

Finally, Mark stopped screaming as he slumped over in his chair, and Negan pulled the iron away, a piece of Mark’s skin peeling off as it stuck to the iron.

“Ah, that wasn’t so bad, now, was it?” Negan chuckled as he passed the iron back to Dwight. “Jesus. He pissed himself,” he turned to Daryl and walked up, leaning into his ear. “Clean that up.”

Daryl looked to Carl for a moment before he moved to Mark and scrubbed at the piss puddle under him.

“Doc, I’m all done. Do your thing,” Negan said, and Dr. Carson began inspecting Mark. “Well, the pussy passed out,” Negan began, walking among the crowd. “But it’s settled, we’re square. Everything is cool. Let Mark’s face be a daily reminder to him and to everyone else that the rules matter. I hope that we all learned something today, because I don’t ever want to have to do that again.”

Negan turned to Carl and walked up to him. Daryl kept his eye on the two as Negan muttered something to the kid and led him away.

* * *

Daryl was put back to work in the yard, catching and chaining walkers and dodging teeth and fingers. He had no idea how much time had passed when the main gate opened and a large tan moving truck pulled out.

“Daryl!” He heard, and he walked up to the passenger side where Negan sat. “You seem worried, so I’m taking the kid home,” he assured.

“If you do anythin’ to him—” Daryl growled.

“Dwight,” Negan called, cutting him off. “Daryl needs a time-out. Put him back in his box for a while.”

Dwight approached and grabbed Daryl by his sweater, pulling him along as Negan stuck up his middle finger; then, the truck and its convoy continued on.

The two made their way inside and down the halls toward his cell.

“Dwight,” they heard from behind.

Dwight stopped and turned them to see Isaac strolling up to them, a lazy grin on his face.

“Doc wants to see you,” Isaac informed, gesturing behind him.

“Carson can wait, I gotta take this asshole back to his suite,” Dwight said.

“Nah, seemed important. I’ll take him,” Isaac insisted.

Dwight huffed and passed Daryl over to Isaac before stalking back down the hall and disappearing around the corner.

“Let’s go,” Isaac said, poking Daryl forward.

“Don’t fuckin’ touch me,” Daryl hissed, pulling away from him and walking along on his own.

Isaac chuckled but made no move to grab him again as he followed.

“Guess you’re still mad about yesterday.”

Daryl made no reply.

“How about a little gratitude? You heard her—if it wasn’t for me, she’d be dead.”

“Take your gratitude and shove it up your ass,” Daryl sneered.

“Now, Daryl,” Isaac tsked, “I hope you have better manners when you talk to my Annie.”

Daryl ground his teeth, reminding himself not to give Isaac any more reactions. Not when it came to Anna.

“I’d hate for all my hard work to go to waste just because you’ve been a bad influence on her.”

_Don’t react._

“I had to refresh her memory yesterday. A bruise should be a nice reminder for her to watch how she talks to me.”

Daryl’s fists clenched at his sides as they arrived at his cell.

“She really can have a bad mouth.”

_Don’t react._

“Do you have any idea what it took for me to get her to behave?” Isaac asked.

Daryl dug his nails into his palms.

“No, I suppose you wouldn’t. Well, let’s just say I had to teach her a lot of things more than once. She’s smart, but damn is she stubborn.”

That Anna was smart and stubborn was the only thing Isaac had ever said that Daryl could agree with.

“Don’t get me wrong; being stubborn isn’t always a bad thing. In fact, I admire perseverance. Like I told her, it’s only a bad thing when she refuses to listen.”

His palms stung and his fists were trembling.

“In the beginning, listening was her biggest problem. She could never do what she was told, and she did things she was told not to.”

_Just shut up._

“It really wasn’t easy to change that. I have to admit it, though—I had a lot of fun.”

_Fuckin’ psycho._

“It wasn’t always exactly enjoyable for her. Don’t you think she’s beautiful when she cries?”

Lead shot through Daryl’s veins.

“The screaming was a little inconvenient—”

Daryl shoved Isaac against the wall, his fist slamming across the man’s jaw once before Isaac pushed him back and leveled his gun with Daryl’s head. Daryl glared at his smirking face.

“Let’s get something straight, Daryl,” Isaac began. “The only reason she’s not here—in a cell or as one of Negan’s wives—is because I haven’t told him about the two of you.”

He took a step forward and Daryl took a step back into his cell.

“Pull something like this again, and I’ll make sure he knows all about her. As you’ve probably noticed, Negan likes his playthings to have a little spark—and having both of you here?”

Isaac lowered his gun and reached for the door.

“He’d have all sorts of fun with that,” he said as he shut and locked the door.

* * *

Daryl sat beside the door, staring into the dark. He couldn’t get Isaac’s voice out of his head, his words repeating over in his mind. The guy was a psycho—probably even before the world fell apart—and fit right in with Negan.

All he could think of was how Anna had been with this guy for over a month. He’d seen the effect Isaac had on her, even when she thought he was dead. The lack of sleep, the nightmares, the fear. But seeing it firsthand now that they knew he was alive was so much worse.

_“See Daryl—what a good girl she is? And what do good girls get, Annie?”_

Daryl clenched his teeth, pressed the back of his head into the wall, and closed his eyes. A part of him believed she didn’t have to answer those questions and wished that she hadn’t. But seeing her shaking, her eyes and face red as she was barely able to speak—

_"Rewarded.”_

He slammed the side of his fist against the wall a couple of times, trying to let out some of the rage building up and twisting his insides. There wasn’t a damn thing he could do to help Anna. Trying anything would only make it worse. Isaac had them in his pocket, daring them to step out of line.

It was like Isaac had tied an anchor around their throats and was on the verge of dropping it into deep waters so he could watch them drown.

A door opened and shut outside and soft footsteps approached. He glanced at the gap between the floor and door, a shadow stopping in the light. Furrowing his brow, he waited for the door to swing open. Instead, there was a gentle crinkling as a piece of paper slid under the door and the footsteps hurried away.

Daryl slowly reached for the paper and turned it in the sliver of light, reading the loose, looping cursive. His fingers brushed against something hard on the back and he flipped the paper over to see a key and a match taped to it. He turned it back over and read it once more.

_Go now_.


	8. Chapter Seven

Anna shoved the bed frame against the wall and stepped out of the shed before shutting the door. She’d grown tired of the skeleton in her room, a bleak reminder of what was taken from her. She wiped her hands on her jeans as she started across the backyard toward the house.

As she made her way up the porch steps, she saw Rick standing in the dining room with Jessie. Anna sighed and stepped inside the house.

“Anna, hey,” Rick said at her entrance.

“Rick,” she greeted with a nod.

“Aaron and I are goin’ on a run for supplies. We’re gonna go out pretty far,” Rick explained. “I was just stoppin’ by to see how you were doin’.”

“I’m fine,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

Rick and Jessie openly looked at each other before turning back to her. Anna rolled her eyes and adjusted her stance. “Can you get to the real reason you’re here?”

Rick bowed his head and scratched the bridge of his nose.

“I need you to be in charge while I’m gone,” Rick finally said.

“No.”

“Anna, please, I don’t—” he rubbed his face— “I’d ask Michonne, but she left to scavenge this morning. Please, I know I can count on you.”

“I’m sure you’ve got plenty of people to count on,” Anna waved him off, heading to the hallway.

“I’m askin’ you,” Rick stated simply.

“Ask someone else,” Anna snapped. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. I know you can,” Rick insisted.

“And if the Saviors come back?” She asked.

_If Isaac is with them?_

“You’ll handle them. But they won’t be back,” Rick assured.

Anna ground her teeth, knowing that Rick wasn’t going to let up. Once he made up his mind, it took a hell of a lot to change it.

“Fine,” she huffed.

“Thank you,” Rick said, and she heard him head out the door.

“I think this’ll be good for you,” Jessie said. “It’ll give you something to do.”

“Yeah, sure,” Anna mumbled as she headed to the office, Jessie following close behind. “I was hiding in a closet this morning, but I can totally take charge,” she snipped.

She found her satchel and put a notebook and pen inside—along with her voice recorder— before she pulled it over her head and adjusted it on her shoulders.

“I’ve got tower watch, so if you need me,” Jessie started.

“That’s where you’ll be,” Anna finished.

Jessie nodded before he turned. Anna watched as he left the room and listened to the front door open and shut. Her eyes flicked to the office door. She walked up to it and gently closed it so that she could see the wall behind. She reached out and pushed her fingers into the dent in the drywall where the doorknob had broken through. Her other hand found the bruise still throbbing on her cheek.

With a huff, Anna opened the door and walked out, pushing the hole in the wall and the bruise on her face from her mind. Maybe Jessie was right; this could be good for her. A distraction from it all could be just the thing.

So, she left the house and started down the street toward the pantry. A few people waved at her as she walked by, but no one seemed inclined to talk.

The pantry was nearly barren when she arrived. Doing a quick mental tally of the people they had to feed, she calculated that they had enough food to last them about a month if they stretched out their rations as far as possible. Anna decided she would go hunting when Rick returned. Yet another good distraction.

Dissatisfied with the pantry, Anna made her way around Alexandria, checking on the guards posted strategically at the wall.

Holly seemed frustrated with the way of things but was resigned to focusing on her job rather than complaining. On the other hand, Scott had no qualms with voicing his distaste with the Saviors and their inability to rectify the problem. Eric primarily stuck to passive aggression but was overall compliant. Tobin, however, wanted answers.

“How are we getting out of this?” He asked.

“We talked about this,” Anna said, already exhausted.

While having something to do to keep her mind from spiraling was good, it was hard keeping a strong facade up for longer than a few minutes. She already had a headache, and all she wanted to do was curl up in her closet and sleep.

“Rick talked about it,” Tobin corrected as he followed her down the street toward the front gate where he was scheduled to be in a few minutes. “They said you were with the military. Surely there’s something you can come up with to get us out of this.”

“Seven months after the turn doesn’t make someone a one-person army. That’s what we need to beat them—an army,” she sighed. “I don’t suppose you have one in your back pocket?”

“What about the Hilltop?” He pushed.

“The Hilltop is in the same boat as us. No guns. Except they have the added disadvantage of not having fighters either,” Anna explained. “And by the time we’d get them trained, the Saviors would probably know what we were planning.”

“So, that’s it? We just let them take everything? After what they did?” Tobin asked as they reached the front gate. “Glenn was your best friend,” Tobin insisted. “Daryl—”

“Stop,” Anna snapped. “This conversation is over.”

“Uh, guys,” called Shawn from the gate platform.

Tobin and Anna squinted up at him as the rumble of engines approached. Tensing, Anna turned to the gate, the shadow of trucks looming just beyond. She could hear them pull to a stop and the engines idle as a door opened and slammed shut on the other side.

“Open the gate,” Anna said.

“But—”

“Open the gate,” she repeated more firmly.

Tobin huffed and walked to the gate, pulling the latch before rolling the gate back to reveal Negan standing there, bat in hand and Carl at his side.

_What the shit?_

“Hello again,” he grinned. “Where’s Rick?”

“He’s out scavenging,” Tobin answered.

Negan stepped to the side with Carl, allowing two trucks to pull through the gate and park. Anna’s hands shook as she waited for Isaac to climb out of one of the trucks.

“Why don’t you go ahead and shut that gate,” Negan said.

Tobin glanced at Anna and she nodded. He pulled the gate closed and locked it.

“So, who’s in charge while your fearless leader is away?” Negan asked, looking around at them.

“Me,” Anna said reluctantly, scanning the Saviors that gathered around them. She didn’t see Isaac anywhere, and she felt her heart calm.

Negan looked to her, raising a brow.

“You? You’re Rick’s right hand?” He asked, incredulous.

“More like his pinky,” Anna muttered. “Why is Carl with you?”

Negan clapped Carl on the shoulder and laughed. “This little pirate decided to storm the castle,” he said and Carl grimaced. “Killed some of my men. But I brought him back ‘cause I am just such a nice guy.”

Anna made no outward reaction as he moved toward her, standing in her space.

“When should we be expecting Rick’s return?” He asked.

“He went out pretty far. It’ll probably be awhile before he gets back,” she said evenly.

“Then I guess I’ll just put my feet up till he gets here,” he said. “Carl,” he called, gesturing for the teen to follow him.

Anna watched as they started down the street. Negan stopped and turned back.

“What’s your name?” He asked, pointing at her.

“Anna,” she said.

“Well, Anna,” he said. “Come along,” he ordered before he headed off.

Anna rolled her eyes and looked to Tobin.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” she hissed before following after them.

* * *

Negan used his bat to tap on the yellow door of Rick’s house and Olivia answered, her face paling at the sight of the man. She quickly stepped aside, allowing him entrance as she looked to Carl.

“Carl, where’s—”

“Enid’s fine,” Carl assured.

Anna furrowed her brow; she hadn’t even noticed the girl was missing.

“Great, great, great, great, great, great,” Negan cheered.

“Rick’s not here,” Olivia said. “They might not be back today.”

“Right,” he said.

“We’re running really low on everything. We’re practically starving here,” Olivia huffed.

“Starving?” Negan turned to Olivia, looking her up and down. “You? By “practically,” you mean “not really,’” he corrected.

Olivia’s lip began to tremble and she whirled around as a sob ripped from her lips. Anna grimaced uncomfortably. Negan looked between Anna and Carl.

“Really?” He chuckled. “You people seriously don’t have a sense of humor.” He turned back to Olivia and sighed. “Excuse me. What’s your name again?”

“Olivia,” she ground out, wiping at her face as she turned to him.

“Right, Olivia,” Negan began. “I am sorry for having been so rude to you just now. And it looks like I’m gonna be here for a while, awaiting Rick’s return. And if you’d like, I think it would be enjoyable to screw your brains out,” he said, stepping toward her. “I mean, if, you know, you’re agreeable to it.”

Anna jumped at the sound of Olivia’s hand slapping across Negan’s face. Negan shook himself and grinned down at Olivia.

“I am about fifty percent more into you now. Just sayin’,” he laughed.

Olivia took a step back with a look of disgust.

“Olivia, would you be a lamb and make us a little lemonade?” Negan asked, stepping away from her to look around the room. “Now, I know I left you all some of that good powdered stuff.”

“Well, I’m supposed to be with—”

“Make it,” he snapped, his expression hardening. “Take your time. Make it good.”

Olivia nodded and quickly scurried out of the house. Negan clapped his hands and looked to Carl.

“Alright, kid! Take me on the grand tour,” he said, waving his arm out to the rest of the house.

Carl glanced at Anna before they started around the house. Negan was openly excited as he ran the kitchen sink and flipped the lights on and off in each room they entered. He played a bit of darts in Carl’s room and took his shoes off in Rick and Michonne’s room to feel the carpet on his feet.

“Are you okay?” Anna asked after Negan brushed past them.

“I’m fine,” Carl assured.

“What the hell were you thinking?”

“What’s in here?” Negan asked as he approached another room.

“Oh, i-it’s just a water heater,” Carl insisted, hurrying to block his path.

“Are you serious kid? Come on,” Negan scoffed, pushing the door open. “Oh-ho, my,” he exclaimed. “Look at this little angel.”

Anna watched intently as Negan pulled Judith into his arms and bounced her on his hip. She furrowed her brow as he cooed at her.

_Is this guy for real?_

“How about we go get some fresh air?” Negan asked, carrying Judith out of the room.

Carl and Anna followed him downstairs and out onto the front porch.

“Here, hold her for a moment,” he said, passing Judith to Anna.

Anna took her and he removed his jacket, folding it over the arm of one of the rocking chairs before he gestured for Judith’s return. Reluctantly, Anna handed the child back and Negan sat down, rocking back and forth as he began to hum.

“Well, sit down,” he ordered.

Anna nodded to Carl, and the teen sat in the other chair as she crossed her arms over her chest, hovering just behind them.

“Oh, this little girl is precious,” he grinned as Judith laid her head on his shoulder. “Hey, neighbor,” he called, waving as Tobin walked past. “Why don’t you come by later? We might grill out.” Tobin hurried on by without responding as Negan chuckled. “Oh, I like it here. I might just have to stay here. You know, I was thinking about what you said earlier, Carl. Maybe it is stupid keeping you and your dad alive. I mean, why am I trying so hard? Maybe I should just bury you both down in one of those flower beds, huh?”

He moved Judith so he could pucker his lips at her.

“And then I could just settle into the suburbs. What do you think about that?”

Negan let Judith lay back on his shoulder and closed his eyes.

“So, Anna, tell me about yourself. How did you end up being in charge while Rick’s away?” He asked.

“No one else for him to ask,” Anna shrugged.

“Come on, now. Don’t sell yourself short. I’m sure you’ve got plenty to offer,” he said, looking over his shoulder at her. “Come on around here, let me get a look at you.”

Anna frowned and moved to stand in front of him, not bothering to hide her impatience.

“How old are you?” He asked.

“Twenty-seven or so.”

“Twenty-seven or so?” He echoed. “How old’s Daryl?”

“About thirty-six,” she said, working her jaw.

Negan gave a low whistle. “That’s quite the age difference.”

Anna ground her teeth but said nothing.

“What’s the relationship there? Are you two, like, a thing?”

She shifted on her feet and pressed her lips together as she glared at him.

“Well, excuse the shit out of me for asking,” Negan said, raising a brow at her. “I couldn’t help but notice your reaction when he hit me and my guys took him down. Kinda made me think there was something—” he waved his hand at her.

“It’s none of your business,” she snapped.

“Oh, she’s got some spunk. Is that what got you that bruise?”

_Bite me_.

“You know, there’s an open cell next to his,” Negan grinned. “Your attitude could stand to be brought down a couple of notches.”

“Can you just leave her alone?” Carl asked.

Negan glanced between the two of them.

“For now,” he finally said, then the corner of his mouth twitched up into a smile. “Maybe I’ll talk to Daryl about it first, see what he says.”

Anna looked first at Judith, content on Negan’s chest, then at Carl—that was all it took to keep her mouth shut.

“Now, what do you have to eat around here?”


	9. Chapter Eight

“Against the grain, kid,” Negan said as he drew the straight razor up his neck. “Always against the grain.”

Anna watched as he wiped his face and set the razor on the bathroom counter. It would have been so easy to grab it and slit his throat. But that was assuming she could catch him off guard enough to do so.

She glanced at Carl and saw him looking between the razor and Negan and knew that he was thinking the same thing. Together, maybe they could take him.

Judith was the only reason they didn’t move.

“Alright, now that that’s taken care of, let’s go make some dinner!” Negan cheered, picking Judith off the toilet and heading out of the bathroom.

Anna and Carl followed after them and they made their way downstairs and into the kitchen.

“I’m in the mood for some spaghetti,” Negan declared, opening cabinets until he found a box of noodles and a can of sauce. “Anna, be a dear and fill a big ol’ pot with some water.”

Anna rolled her eyes and looked to Carl. He pointed to a cabinet under the island and she opened it to find a large, silver cooking pot. She filled it with water and set it on the stove, turning it on to boil before Negan tore the noodle box open and poured it into the pot.

“You two ever make spaghetti before?” Negan asked.

“No,” Carl said impatiently.

Negan looked to Anna, awaiting her answer.

“Yes,” she finally said.

“Great—oh, look at this!” Negan exclaimed, spotting something over her shoulder.

He pushed past her and grabbed for some aprons hanging off the side of the fridge. He threw one on, tossed another to Carl, and handed the third one to Anna.

“Put ‘em on,” he instructed enthusiastically.

Anna and Carl pulled the aprons on and tied them around their waists. Anna crossed her arms over her chest and leaned her hip against the counter. Negan pulled the fridge open.

“Ho-ho!” He called, shutting the fridge with a grin. “And it’s not expired!”

He held out the cylinder of pre-made bread rolls.

“Anna, get me another big pot for the sauce.”

Anna did as he requested and watched as Negan opened the can of sauce and dumped it, taking a wooden spoon from the holder beside the stove and turning on the burner.

“Anna, you’re in charge of the noodles. Don’t overcook them,” he said. “Carl, I want you making the rolls.”

Anna huffed and moved to stand beside the noodles while Negan set about showing Carl how he wanted the rolls done. She kept her eye on Judith at the end of the counter in a highchair as she waited for the water to start boiling.

Once Negan was satisfied that Carl knew what he was doing, he returned to the sauce and began adding a few spices.

“Ah, damn! That smells good,” he said.

She furrowed her brow at the sight of him. He almost seemed normal as he hummed to himself, stirring the slowly simmering sauce. Finally, he tested the sauce. He closed his eyes, his face melting in pleasure, and Anna suddenly remembered that he probably was a normal person—before the world fell apart.

“Want a taste?” He asked, offering the spoon first to Carl, then to Anna.

Neither accepted.

“Okay,” he shrugged, turning back to the sauce.

“How are those noodles comin’?” Negan asked, not taking his eyes off the sauce as he sprinkled salt in a circle.

Anna looked back to the noodles and saw them folding under the boiling water. She took a spoon and eased them further in.

“Just a little longer,” she muttered, setting the spoon to the side.

“Pre-heat the oven to 400,” Negan said, nodding.

Anna set the oven and before long, they were sliding in the tray of rolls. Anna took up the spoon again and fished out a single noodle. Negan watched her as she turned and chucked the noodle across the kitchen where it landed squarely against a cabinet. When it didn’t slide or fall, she turned the burner off and strained out the water over the sink.

After putting the pot of noodles back on the stove, Negan poured the sauce in and mixed it up as Anna retrieved the test noodle and threw it in the trash. Olivia walked in then, with a tin of powdered lemonade. She set to making the drink as she picked up Judith and balanced the girl on her hip.

“Carl, Anna—go set the table.”

Carl pulled down some plates and cups, Anna grabbed the silverware and napkins, and the two walked to the table.

“Why are we just doing whatever he says?” Carl hissed.

“You really want to risk Judith?” Anna asked quietly as the two moved around the table.

Negan walked past them and sat down at the head of the table. Anna paused as she gathered the last fork and knife in her hand. She set the napkin down first, reaching across him. She considered for a moment that with Olivia watching Judith, she could easily turn the blunt butter knife in her hand and force the blade through his eye.

It would have been so simple.

She glanced between the knife and Negan, saw him grinning at her, and set the silverware down, backing away from the table.

“We’re gonna need another setting,” he informed.

* * *

* * *

_Go now._

Was this another test? Daryl stared at the looping cursive as he pulled the key and match off the paper. If it was a test and he stayed, what would that mean? He turned the key over in his hand—it was for a motorcycle. His motorcycle.

Making up his mind, Daryl moved to crouch in front of the door, pressing his right hand against the metal and his left hand over the knob. He twisted the knob and, when it didn’t resist, pushed the door open slowly. No one was on the other side.

Daryl decided he didn’t care if it was a test. One way or another, he was going to kill that piece of shit.

He hurried down the hall and around the corner, keeping close to the wall. As he neared another corner, a woman called out.

“Stop hugging the wall.”

He ran forward, intending to subdue whoever was there and demand directions.

“Watch it,” the woman snapped when something creaked and glass shattered as it hit the ground. He slid to a halt at the corner as pickles and vinegar flooded the hall.

“God, damn it!” A man groaned.

Daryl tensed. There was no telling how many people were around that corner. He whirled around and ran into the first room he found, shutting the door as quickly and as quietly as he could. He stilled for a moment, holding the door in place.

“Go get a mop and another barrel,” he heard distantly.

“We’re keeping this crap?” Another man guffawed.

“We don’t have to eat it,” the woman informed.

Daryl figured they hadn’t noticed him and he stepped away from the door, turning to the room he’d entered. Luckily, it was void of any people.

“Jesus, he hates pickles,” the first man said as Daryl spotted a door on the other side of the room.

Daryl crossed to the door and pushed it open. He paused at the sight of a makeshift bed on the floor of what seemed to be a closet. He closed the door and turned back to the room, surveying its contents. He grabbed a jar of peanut butter from the top of the fridge and threw the cap off, digging his fingers into the creamy substance and shoving it in his mouth. He groaned at the taste and shoveled more into his mouth.

He saw the pile of clothes on the table and looked at his own attire. With another mouthful of peanut butter, he set the jar down and dug through the clothes, wiping his mouth on a white shirt before finding a grey t-shirt that looked like it would fit. Yanking off his disgusting sweater, he pulled on the fresh gray shirt when he spotted a chessboard, hand carved figurines positioned in the squares.

_Dwight._

Grinding his teeth, Daryl continued to change into fresh clothes before he grabbed the peanut butter and a spoon, sitting in the brown leather armchair. He glared at the door as he ate, listening to the back and forth of the men and the woman in the hall.

“Get this cleaned up before Isaac sees it,” the first man ordered.

Daryl perked up at the name.

“Isaac left,” the woman assured. “Said he wouldn’t be back ‘til tomorrow.”

Daryl sneered at the information. He didn’t have time to wait that long.

“Easy. Easy,” the first man said.

“We got it. Take this crap back,” the second man snapped.

“How about this time, you watch where you’re going?” The woman huffed.

“Oh, come on. Get off his back.”

Daryl waited and listened to the sound of the retreating Saviors as he set the near empty jar of peanut butter on the side table and wiped his mouth. Once the hall grew silent, he stood and pulled a hat off the floor lamp before flipping the chess board and heading out of the room.

He met no other obstacles as he found a steel pipe and made his way to the motorcycle depot, taking quick stock of the surroundings before setting foot outside. When he saw it was empty, he ran for the motorcycles and found his bike in the lineup. He began checking over it, making sure there was fuel in the tank.

“The hell?”

He looked up to see Fat Joey staring at him, a sandwich in hand. Daryl stood, his grip on the pipe tightening.

“Whoa,” Fat Joey said, raising his hands and dropping his sandwich. “Whoa, it’s cool. I swear.”

Daryl stepped toward him.

"Buddy, you can walk right out that back gate there, and I won’t say anything to anybody,” Fat Joey assured, pointing to the exit. “I’m supposed to be there now, but—listen, I’m –I’m just trying to get by. Just like you. Please,” he begged.

All the anger and resentment that he had been stewing in seemed to erupt as he gripped the pipe with both hands and swung, the metal landing hard against the top of Fat Joey’s head. The man collapsed upon first impact. Daryl continued to bring the pipe down until Fat Joey was a twitching mess on the ground.

“Daryl,” he heard.

He swung a few more times, just to get the twitching to stop.

“Daryl.”

He finally looked up and saw Jesus staring apprehensively between him and Fat Joey. He looked back to Fat Joey, his eyes spotting the familiar brown handle and silver barrel of a revolver tucked into the dead man’s belt. He tossed the pipe to the side and crouched, grabbing the gun and tucking it into his pants as he stood.

“It ain’t just about gettin’ by here. It’s about gettin’ it all,” Daryl said before turning back to his bike. “I got the key. Let’s go.”

Jesus climbed on behind him as the engine roared to life. Daryl scowled as he glanced back at the towering Sanctuary. He wanted to find Isaac and Dwight and beat them to death. He wanted to burn the place to the ground. But there wasn’t time.

“We need to go. Head for Hilltop. It’s closer,” Jesus insisted.

Daryl faced forward and sped off down the road.


	10. Chapter Nine

They sat around the table with Negan at the head. Carl sat to his left and Anna at his right, with Olivia holding Judith beside her. Anna stared at her hands resting in her lap, her fingers twitching. They’d been sitting in silence for fifteen minutes.

“I’m not waiting for your dad anymore. I don’t know where the hell he is, but Lucille is hungry.” He tucked a napkin into the collar of his shirt “Carl, pass the rolls.”

Carl looked to Negan.

“Please,” Negan said impatiently.

Carl passed the rolls, and Negan took two before handing the basket to Anna. She took one and set it on her plate, then held it out for Olivia.

“Get some spaghetti,” Negan insisted.

Anna leaned forward and dished herself a serving before reaching for Carl’s plate. She served the teen and Olivia before sitting back down; Negan was watching her.

“Well?” He asked expectantly. “Are you waiting for me to say grace? Eat.”

Anna rolled her eyes and they began to eat, their forks scraping against the plates. She hated to admit that the sauce was actually good. It didn’t take long for her to finish, and she had to force herself not to go for seconds, folding her hands in her lap.

“Damn, that was good,” Negan grinned, rubbing his stomach. “It’s a hell of a lot better than what Daryl’s been eating.”

Anna’s hands curled into fists.

“He’s probably sick of those dog food sandwiches,” Negan sighed.

"What?” Anna snapped, her skin heating with anger as Negan smirked at her.

“No.”

Negan turned toward the front door before getting up and heading out. Anna pushed out of her chair and followed after him.

“I just want to talk to him,” she heard Spencer insist.

“I said no,” the woman stationed at the front steps snapped.

“Don’t be an asshole, Arat,” Negan said as he stepped out onto the porch. “Let the man pass.”

Spencer brushed past Arat and took a couple of steps up before stopping.

“Oh, crap. Is that for me?” Negan asked, gesturing to the bottle of whiskey in Spencer’s hands.

“We haven't officially met. I’m Spencer Monroe.” Spencer said, holding out the bottle of whiskey. “Hi.”

* * *

Anna stood just behind Spencer and Negan as they sat in the rocking chairs on the front porch. She poured the whiskey in a tumbler and handed it to Negan.

“Running water, air conditioning, a housewarming gift?” He asked, raising his glass as Anna readied a tumbler for Spencer. “That settles it. I am getting myself a vacation home here.”

“Cheers to that,” Spencer grinned as he took the glass from her.

Anna narrowed her eyes at him and his grin faltered a moment before he looked away and sipped on his whiskey.

“Oh, that is good,” Negan hummed. “You know, the only thing missing is a pool table. Nothing better than a good game of eight ball.”

“The house across the street has one in the garage,” Spencer informed.

“Oh, Spencer, you may just be my new best friend,” Negan laughed. “Such a nice day, though—too nice to be cooped up inside some garage, don’t you think?” He glanced between Spencer and Anna. “Yeah, I got a better idea.”

Negan got to his feet and headed down the steps.

“John, Tyreek, go in there and bring that pool table out here,” he said, gesturing to the middle of the street.

The men he indicated jumped into action with a few others, and Negan stood in the street watching.

“What the hell are you doing?” Anna hissed.

“The right thing,” Spencer said simply as he stood.

“The right thing is to kiss his ass?” Anna snapped.

“You’ll see. This is the best thing for us,” Spencer assured. “I’m doing what needs to be done.”

With that, he turned and joined Negan in the street as the pool table was set up. The two grabbed sticks and readied themselves for the game.

“Anna, I need a refill,” Negan called, dangling his empty glass in the air.

Anna sneered and made her way down the steps and over to him, pouring him more whiskey.

“I could never do this with Rick,” Negan began, taking another sip of his whiskey before he leaned down and broke. “He would just be standing there, scowling, giving me that annoying side-eye he gives me.”

“That’s actually what I came to see you about,” Spencer said as he took his turn. “I want to talk to you about Rick.’

“Alright,” Negan said. “Talk to me, Spencer. Talk to me about Rick.” He took his turn.

“I get what you’re trying to do here, what you’re trying to build. I’m not saying I agree with your methods, but I get it,” Spencer said, taking his turn when Negan missed his shot. “You’re building a network. You’re making people contribute for the greater good. It makes sense. But you should know that Rick Grimes has a history of not working well with others.”

Anna ground her teeth—she didn’t think she could glare any harder at Spencer. She glanced around at the Alexandrians that had gathered to watch the game; Olivia and Carl stood on the porch overlooking them.

“Is that so?” Negan hummed as he readied for his turn.

“Rick wasn’t the original leader here. My mom was,” Spencer explained as he watched Negan sink a ball and line up for another shot. “She was doing a really good job of it. Then she died—not long after Rick showed up. Same with my brother, same with my dad.”

“So, everything was peachy here for—what—years? And then Rick shows up, and suddenly you’re an orphan?” Negan asked. “That is the saddest story I’ve ever heard. Good thing for you he’s not in charge anymore.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Spencer insisted. “His ego’s out of control. He’ll find a way to screw things up, to try and do things his way, to take over. That’s what he did with my mom. That’s what he’ll do again.”

“What exactly are you proposing be done about that?” Negan asked.

“I am my mother’s son,” Spencer shrugged. “I can be the leader she was. That’s what this place needs. That’s what you need.”

“Eat shit,” Anna muttered.

“So, I should put you in charge—that’s what you’re saying?” Negan asked.

“We’d be much better off,” Spencer assured.

“You know, I’m thinking, Spencer,” Negan began, straightening. “I’m thinking how Rick threatened to kill me, how he clearly hates my guts. But he is out there right now, gathering shit for me to make sure I don't hurt any of the fine people that live here. He is swallowing his hate and getting shit done.”

He chuckled as he walked around the pool table to stand in front of Spencer.

“That takes guts. And then there's you; the guy who waited for Rick to be gone so he could sneak over and talk to me to get me to do his dirty work, so he could take Rick's place.”

Spencer’s face fell.

“So, I got to ask – if you wanna take over, why not just kill Rick yourself and just take over?” Negan asked.

“What? No, no. I didn't—I don't—” Spencer stammered.

“You know what I'm thinking?” Negan asked, leaning in. “'Cause I have a guess. It's because you got no guts.”

Negan moved so quickly that it took a moment for Anna to register what had happened as she watched Spencer’s insides pour out of him. She lost her grip on the bottle of whiskey, letting it fall to the ground and shatter.

“Oh!” Negan hollered. “Oh. How embarrassing. There they are. They were inside you the whole time. You did have guts. I've never been so wrong in my whole life!” Negan laughed, looking around at everyone. “Now, someone ought to get up here and clean this mess up. Oh. Anyone want to finish the game? C'mon. Anybody? Anna?” He asked, turning to her as he picked up and twirled Lucille. “C'mon. I was winning!”

A gunshot rang out and Anna jumped back, looking around frantically for the source only to see Rosita holding a gun. Arat tackled her to the ground, holding a knife to her throat.

“Shit!” Negan shouted, staring at the bullet lodged in the bat. “What the shit? Shit! You just—You tried to kill me! You shot Lucille!”

“She got in the way,” Rosita sneered.

Negan crouched and picked up the bullet casing that had rolled to his feet, inspecting it.

“What is this?” He asked. “What is this? This little bad boy made from scratch? Look at those crimps. This was homemade,” he determined, stepping closer to Rosita and Arat. “You may be stupid, darlin', but you showed some real ingenuity here. Arat, move that knife up out on that girl's face.”

Arat moved her knife and held it just below Rosita’s right eye.

“Lucille's beautiful, smooth surface is never gonna look the same, so why should yours?” He yelled. “Unless—unless you tell me who made this.”

“It was me. I made it,” Rosita answered.

“You see, now I just think you're lying. And you lying to me now?” He growled. “Such a shame. Arat's gonna have to cut up that pretty face. One more try.”

“It was me,” Rosita hissed, lifting her head so that the knife pressed into her skin and blood dripped down her cheek.

“Oh! You are such a badass!” He laughed. “Fine. Have it your way. Arat— kill somebody.”

Arat straightened, pulling her gun.

“No!” Anna shouted just as Arat pulled the trigger.

Olivia staggered back before collapsing to the ground. Anna turned to see Tobin attempting to push past a Savior. The other Alexandrians shifted uneasily, ready for a fight as the Saviors aimed their weapons.

“Tobin, back off,” Anna demanded, taking a step toward him when she saw Rick pushing through the crowd.

“We had an agreement,” Rick said as he approached Negan.

“Rick!” Negan cheered, his voice breaking. “Look, everybody, it’s Rick. Ah, your people are making me lose my voice doin’ all this yelling. Rick… how about a “thank you”? I mean, look, I know we started this relationship with me beating the holy shit out of your friends, and because of that, we’re never gonna sit around and braid each other’s hair or share our deepest, darkest secrets, but how about a little credit? I just bent over backwards to show you how reasonable I am.”

He pointed at Carl.

“Your kid – he hid in one of my trucks and machine-gunned a bunch of my men down, and I brought him home, safe and sound, and I fed him spaghetti,” Negan said, grinning. “Another one of your people—well, he wanted me to kill you and put him in charge. I took him out for you. And another one, here—” he pointed at Rosita, “she shot Lucille, trying to kill me just now, so I gave you one less mouth to feed. And by looking at her—that mouth did some major damage. Now, personally, I wouldn't have picked her to be the one to go, but Arat,” He sighed “I don't know—didn't trust her.”

Rick glared at him.

“Your shit’s waiting for you at the gate. Just go,” he ground out.

“Sure thing, Rick,” Negan smirked. “Right after I find the guy or gal that made this bullet. Arat?”

Arat got to her feet and aimed her gun at Eric and a very beat up Aaron.

“It was me!” Tara shouted, stepping forward, and Arat turned on her.

“No, it wasn’t,” Eugene said into his hands.

He dropped his hands to his sides, visibly shaking.

“It was me. It was only me.”

Negan approached him.

“You?” He asked.

“It required one spent casing, one four-holed turret reloader, powder, one funnel for the powder—”

“Shut up,” Negan said, interrupting Eugene’s rambling. “I believe you.”

He patted Eugene on the shoulder before turning and walking away from him, holding Lucille up.

“Lucille, give me strength,” he implored. “I’m gonna be relieving you of your bullet maker, Rick—” he sighed, turning to Rick. “That and whatever you left for me at the front gate. And however much you scavenged, it's not good enough, because you're still in a serious, serious hole after today. Let's move out!”

“No!” Rosita cried as a couple of Saviors shoved Eugene toward the front gate. “No, no! Please, just take me!” She pleaded.

“Rick, I ain’t gonna lie—your kitchen is a goddamn mess,” Negan chuckled. “I’ll see you next time,” he said as he turned and walked away before pausing beside Anna. “I’ll tell Daryl you said hi.”

Anna clenched her fists at her sides but said nothing as she turned on her heel and stalked towards home. She could hear him laughing behind her.

* * *

Anna sat back in the office chair, staring at the finished files of Olivia and Spencer. As soon as she returned home, Anna had set to work, and she was now putting Spencer’s interview on CD; Olivia’s disc was already in its case on the desk. The realization that neither of them had any loved ones left behind gave her pause.

She spun her chair around to stare out the window and watched as the sun slowly set, hearing the faint pop of the disc tray opening.

Who were these CDs even for?

Absently, she picked the CD out of the tray and held it in her hands. There was no one for her to give these to and no one to listen to them. So, what was the point of even making them? She considered deleting the interviews off the CDs, but as the thought crossed her mind, she felt ashamed.

Olivia was kind and—although he had his faults—Spencer had good intentions. They didn’t deserve to be forgotten or deleted.

Anna placed Spencer’s CD in its case, writing his name on the front before tucking both in their respective files and taking them to the shelf where she kept all of the deceased files. She hated to see it slowly filling up. She slid Spencer’s folder in beside the rest of the Monroe family and Olivia’s at the end of the row.

If no one else was around to remember them, then she would.

She returned to the desk and sat down, turning on the lamp now that the sun no longer shined through the window. At the corner of the desk, two untouched files caught her attention and she could just make out the carefully printed names. Jessie must have moved them to the desk.

Anna slowly pulled them closer. There was still work to be done and people to make CDs for. She pulled a drawer open and fished out three blank CDs, popping the first one into the laptop before she found the correct files.

After formatting the CD, Anna set the laptop to work and turned back to the desk, opening the first file before she could talk herself out of it.

_Abraham Ford_.

Picking up her pen, Anna flipped to the first blank page. She hesitated a moment, her pen hovering over the page. The two didn’t speak much, and on those rare occasions they did interact, they were typically at odds. But, Anna had admired his way of approaching the end of the world with full intention of making the apocalypse his bitch.

_“Suck… my… nuts.”_

Anna couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her, her eyes tearing up at the memory of his death. It seemed only fitting that he would say such a thing in his final moments. and she could only hope her last words would be as memorable.

So, that’s what she wrote.

The disc tray popped open and Anna placed the CD in its case, writing out his name on the cover and tucking it into his file.

After making a second CD for Abraham, she started the third CD and opened Glenn’s file. Her grip on her pen tightened and a tear slipped down her cheek. She swiped the tear away and sucked in a breath, pressing the pen to the page. Anna let herself think about him, from that day in Atlanta to that day on perimeter watch. He was a good man. He was her friend. Her family. And he was gone.

Because of Negan.

He’d taken Glenn from her—taken him from Maggie. He’d taken Daryl from her and taunted her with it.

Anna slammed her fist against the desk, her other hand gripping her knee.

There was a knock at the open door and Anna looked up to see Rick staring at her, seeming unsure.

“What—what happened today—” Rick began, stepping into the room. “I’m sorry you had to deal with that.”

She said nothing.

“Spencer and Olivia—it wasn’t your fault,” he insisted.

“No, it wasn’t,” she said, her voice clipped.

Rick nodded slowly.

“We’re gonna fight them,” he said.

Anna stood and leveled Rick with a hard stare.

“Good.”


	11. Chapter Ten

The sky was dark as Anna approached the front gate, her satchel slung over her shoulder and her stick in hand. She stopped beside Jessie as Rick spoke quietly with Tobin. Jessie patted her on the shoulder, a light in his eyes as their ride pulled up.

Michonne—with Carl in the passenger seat—parked the green van at the gate before the two climbed out and joined the others. Anna wished Carl wasn’t going, but she understood Rick was taking precaution against Carl doing something stupid again.

“You’re bringing your stick?” Jessie asked.

“I’m good with it,” Anna shrugged.

Jessie nodded.

“We’re doing this,” he said, his lips twitching up at the corners.

Anna could tell he’d been sitting on his need to fight, and she knew he’d done so for her. He had been waiting for her to be ready, and for her to stop hiding in her closet.

She set her jaw and nodded. They were doing this. Even if Rick changed his mind, they were doing this. Even if she had to face Isaac—especially if she faced Isaac—they were doing this. She could still feel the anger coursing through her. and she held onto that.

Rosita and Tara arrived then. and Rick turned to the group, hands on his hips.

“We’ll be leaving for Hilltop soon,” he began. “Tobin is gonna take charge here. We aren’t goin’ to tell anyone else what we’re plannin’—we don’t want to put them in any unnecessary danger. We all know what this is,” he said, looking at each of them in turn. “So, let’s go.”

With that said, he patted Tobin on the shoulder and got behind the wheel of the van. Michonne climbed into the passenger seat as Carl and Tara loaded into the second row, Jessie making his way into the back seat.

Rosita walked past to join him when Anna reached out and stopped her.

“Hey,” she said as Rosita faced her.

“What?” Rosita asked shortly.

Anna reached into her satchel and pulled out one of the three CDs she had made in the night.

"Don’t,” Rosita said. “I don’t want it.”

Anna furrowed her brow but slowly placed the CD back in her satchel.

“I just thought—”

“I know, and thank you, but I don’t need it,” Rosita insisted before turning on her heel and disappearing within the van.

Anna pressed her lips together, unsure of what to do with this. No one had ever rejected one of her CDs before. She joined the others, settling in between Jessie and the window in the very back.

Tara reached over and slid the side door shut as Rick turned the engine. Once she was back in her seat and Tobin opened the gate, he pulled forward and out of Alexandria, directing them toward Hilltop.

* * *

The trip to the Hilltop was uneventful and silent, everyone too engrossed in their own thoughts to speak much. Rick parked the van at the bottom of the hill, and the group filed out and started up. As they neared, she could see a person looking over the wall before they disappeared.

Anna could just make out a shout and a few minutes later the gates were pulled open. On the other side was Maggie, Sasha, and Enid.

Rick pulled Maggie into a hug, holding her for a moment before they pulled away.

“You’re okay?” He asked.

“I’m okay,” she assured. “The baby’s okay—all of us.”

Anna felt relief flood her.

“You were right,” Rick said. “Right from the start. You told us to get ready to fight. I didn’t listen, and I couldn’t,” he explained, shaking his head. “I can now.”

Maggie smiled at him, and Anna turned her attention to Sasha.

“Hey,” she greeted, hesitating a moment before she reached into her satchel.

Rosita had declined the CD. Would Sasha do the same? Anna decided she needed to at least give her the option of taking or leaving it, so she pulled the CD from her bag and held it out.

Sasha glanced between the disc and Anna, a small smile crossing her face as she quietly took the CD.

“Thank you,” Sasha whispered, reaching out and squeezing Anna’s arm. “Thank you.”

Anna nodded, and the two turned to the rest of the group, quickly spotting Paul standing off to the side as Michonne held a man to her. The two pulled away as Sasha and Anna approached.

Her heart skipped a beat as her steps faltered and she stopped. He was clean, his hair no longer matted to his face and his sweat suit replaced by a dark gray button up and black jeans. He looked like himself again, except for the heavy bags under his eyes.

She wanted to run to him and wrap her arms around him—but she didn’t move. She couldn’t get that scene in the office out of her mind; the blank stare and the way he wouldn’t look at her after.

But then his eyes were on her and he was walking toward her. She could feel her heart pounding against her chest and for a moment she forgot how to breathe until his arms were around her and his face was buried in her hair. Anna dropped her stick and coiled her arms around his waist, letting herself melt into him.

“I’m sorry,” Daryl said, his voice strained and low so that only she could hear, and she knew he meant Glenn.

“It wasn’t your fault,” she said, tightening her hold on him.

When they finally pulled away Anna scooped up her stick and Daryl turned to Rick as he reached behind him. He held out Rick’s Colt Python. Rick took the revolver from his hand and checked the barrel before tucking it into the holster.

Rick looked to Anna then, and she stood at her full height. They nodded to each other, an understanding passing between them. The fight ahead of them was going to be hard, but they would face it together. Her lips turned up into a smile as she looked around at everyone gathered, Rick, Daryl, Maggie, Sasha, Carl, Rosita, Enid, Jessie, Paul, and Emma. Rick’s voice echoed in her head as they started toward the house.

_"‘Cause as long as it’s all of us, we can do anything.”_

* * *

“No!” Gregory shouted as he paced behind the desk. “No way in hell. That was not the deal. You people swore you could take the Saviors out, and you failed. So, any arrangement we had is now done—null and void. We aren’t trade partners, we aren’t friends, and we never met.” He hummed questioningly, leaning against the desk before he sat down. “We don’t know each other. I owe you nothing. In fact, you owe me for taking in the refugees, at great personal risk,” he insisted.

“Oh, you were very brave—staying in here while Maggie and Sasha saved this place,” Paul snapped.

“Your courage was inspiring,” Emma sneered.

“Hey, don’t you two work for me?” Gregory huffed. “Aren’t we friends?”

“Gregory, we already started this,” Rick implored.

“You started it—”

“We did,” Rick insisted. “And we’re gonna win.”

“These are killers,” Gregory said.

“Is this how you want to live?” Rick asked. “Under their thumb, killing your people?”

“Sometimes we don’t get to choose what our life looks like. Sometimes, Ricky, you have to count the blessings you have,” Gregory said.

“How many people can we spare?” Maggie asked. “How many people here can fight?”

“‘We’?” Gregory scoffed. “I don’t even know how many people we have, Margaret.”

“What kind of leader doesn’t even know how many people he’s leading?” Anna asked.

“Does it even matter? I mean—w-w-what are you gonna do? Start a platoon of sorghum farmers? ‘Cause that’s what we got,” Gregory huffed. “They grow things. They’re not gonna want to fight.”

“You’re wrong,” Tara interjected. “When people have the chance to do the right thing, they usually step up. I mean, people just—”

“Let me stop you before you break into song, okay?” Gregory interrupted, clearing his throat. “And, by the way, who would train all this cannon fodder?”

“I will,” Sasha declared.

“Give me a week,” Rosita said.

“Won’t be a problem,” Anna agreed, narrowing her eyes at Gregory.

“Rhetorical,” Gregory sang. “Okay? I don’t want to know. I never want to hear another word about any of it, ever.”

“Would we be better off without the Saviors, yes or no?” Rick asked, clearly irritated.

“Yeah, sure, okay,” Gregory shrugged.

“So, what will you do to fix the problem?” Michonne asked.

“I didn’t say we had a problem,” Gregory corrected. “You did. And what happens outside of my purview is outside of my purview.”

“What the hell, man?” Daryl growled. “You’re either with us or you ain’t. You’re sittin’ over there talkin’ out of both sides of your mouth.”

“I—I think I’ve made my position very clear,” Gregory said, getting to his feet as he adjusted his sleeves. “And I want to thank all of you for not being here today and not having this meeting with me or—or being seen on your way out. In other words, go out the back.”

He gestured for them to leave, and Rick nodded. The group filed out, Anna and Daryl at the back.

“Fuckin’ prick,” Anna grumbled, tightening her grip on her stick.

“Yeah, well, we don’t need him anyway,” Daryl assured as they passed Rick.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Rick agreed. “‘Cause we have Maggie, Sasha, Jesus, and Emma here.”

The front door creaked open and Enid rushed in.

“And Enid,” Maggie added.

“Hey, um—” Enid said, looking around at them.

“What’s wrong?” Sasha asked.

“Nothing. Just—” she chuckled. “Come outside.”

They followed Enid outside to see a good chunk of the Hilltop citizens gathered in front of the house.

“What’s going on?” Maggie asked from the front of the group.

“Hey,” a woman said uneasily as she stepped forward. “So, if you don’t remember, I’m Bertie. And I owe my life to you all, twice over. A bunch of us do. Enid says that you want Gregory to get us to fight the Saviors with you. Is that true?”

“Yes,” Maggie said.

“Do you think we can win, that we really could beat them? Us?” Bertie asked.

“I do,” Maggie nodded.

“Well, Enid says you could show us the way. I’m ready,” Bertie declared.

Anna grinned as the others echoed their willingness to fight. Maggie continued talking with the Hilltoppers while the rest of them continued on.

“It’s a start,” Michonne sighed.

“We’ll get more,” Sasha assured.

“It still won’t be enough,” Anna said.

“No, it won’t,” Rosita agreed.

“Well, we find the right stuff, then maybe we don’t need the numbers,” Daryl suggested. “Blow ‘em up, burn ‘em to the ground.”

“You said there weren’t just soldiers with the Saviors,” Tara said, “that there were workers there. People didn’t have a choice.”

“We gotta win,” Daryl responded.

“We need more hands, another group,” Rick reasoned. “Negan has outposts. The geography, the distance works against us. We gotta get back,” he said as they neared the front gate. “If they come lookin’ for Daryl, we need to be there.”

“You don’t have to get back,” Paul announced.

They turned to face him and he produced a walkie-talkie.

“Not yet. It’s one of theirs, long range,” he explained. “We can listen in, keep track of them.”

“So, if we're not going back, what are we doing, then?” Michonne asked.

“I think it’s time you introduce them to Ezekiel,” Emma said from beside Paul.

“King Ezekiel,” Paul corrected.

“King?” Rick asked.


	12. Chapter Eleven

Rick pulled the van into a deserted parking lot and shut the engine off.

“It’s called The Kingdom?” He asked as he and Paul climbed out of the van and Daryl slid the side door open.

“Yeah,” Paul said. “I didn’t name it.”

Anna climbed over Daryl, desperate to get out of the suffocating van. They had been driving for too long to be shoved in there with that many people since they added Sasha, Daryl, and Paul to the list of passengers. She shook out her legs as soon as she hit solid ground.

“How much farther?” Rick asked, switching gears.

“Well, technically, we’re already here,” Paul said, gesturing around them. “I mean, we’re always here, but here we are—at the Kingdom. Well, its outer edge.”

“Hey, what the hell we waitin’ on?” Daryl asked as he stood out the open door and leaned over the top of the van.

“Waiting for them,” Paul said, pointing just over Rick’s shoulder.

Anna followed his finger to see two men approaching on horseback, one holding a handgun aloft.

“Who dares to trespass on the sovereign land of the—” the one with the gun began before he cut himself off. “Oh, shit. Jesus, is that you?”

Daryl hopped out of the van and came to stand beside Anna as Michonne stepped out of the other side.

“Who are all these people, Paul?” The other man asked.

“Hi, Richard. Nice to see you,” Paul greeted.

“It’s good to see you, too,” Richard responded. “Your friends, who are they?”

“This is Rick Grimes. He’s the leader of a like-minded community. These are some of his people,” Paul explained. “We would like to request an audience with King Ezekiel.”

Richard got off his horse and approached, leaning forward to get a better look at those who had yet to get out.

“Get out of the van,” Paul called, and the rest joined them.

“You say they’re a like-minded community,” Richard said. “Like-minded how?”

“We live, we trade, we fight the dead,” Paul shrugged. “Sometimes others.”

Paul and Richard exchanged a look before Richard looked back at them.

“Line up,” he ordered.

“Okay. This is a waste of time,” Daryl grumbled. “Come on. Let’s go.”

Despite what he said, most of the group began to form a line.

“Maybe you’re right,” Richard said. “The King is a busy man. And it’s a dangerous world. We don’t usually allow a pack of strangers to waltz through our door.”

“We want to make the world less dangerous,” Michonne cut in, “and we are all here to show the King how serious we are about that.”

“The car stays outside. You gotta hand over your guns,” Richard said.

“We only have two,” Rick assured, immediately handing over his Python and nodding to Carl to hand over his pistol.

“Okay,” Richard said as he took the guns. “Follow me.”

* * *

Anna stared around at the scene before her, all the green grass and lush garden. And the people. There were men and women jogging past in formation, wearing what looked like military P.T. clothes. and she suddenly felt like she was back in Fort Benning.

“They have the numbers,” Michonne observed.

“But can they fight?” Rosita asked.

“Oh, they can fight,” Paul assured.

“Maybe,” Daryl huffed.

“Morgan?” Tara called.

Anna turned to see the familiar man walking toward them.

“Hey,” he greeted, smiling as he hugged Tara.

His eyes landed on Anna, and she saw him look at the stick in her hand. They nodded to each other.

“How do you know each other?” Richard asked from behind Morgan.

“We go back to the start,” Rick explained.

“Well, the King is ready to see you,” Richard informed.

The others followed Richard into the building, but Anna, Daryl, and Rick stayed behind as Rick stopped Morgan from joining them.

“Did you find Carol?” Rick asked.

“I did, yeah,” Morgan nodded.

“Where is she? Is she okay?” Daryl asked.

“She was here, and then she left,” Morgan sighed. “You know, she wasn’t too happy—me following her. She wanted to get away from—from everyone. But when I found her, she was shot.”

Anna could feel Daryl tense beside her.

“It was just a graze. I got her back here,” Morgan assured quickly. “They got doctors. They’re good.”

“Was it them?” Daryl asked, his voice low.

“It was,” Morgan answered. “She had crossed with some of them, and one of them followed her, tried to kill her, but I stopped him.” Morgan looked to Rick and then to Anna. “I killed him. I had to.” She could see the pain in his eyes. “Carol was here. She got help. Now she’s gone.”

Anna looked to Daryl, expecting him to demand Carol’s location. But he said nothing and walked away. Rick sighed and followed after him. Anna turned back to Morgan.

“You killed someone?” She asked.

“Yeah,” Morgan said quietly.

“Are you okay?”

“I had to do it,” he answered, looking to her. “I didn’t have a choice.”

Anna thought about what to say as she rested her hand on his shoulder. She wished she had something comforting, but the only thing she could muster before walking away was—

“You’re a better person than me.”

* * *

“Jesus! It pleases me to see you, old friend,” greeted a man sitting on a stage at the front of an auditorium in what Anna assumed was supposed to be a throne, two others at his right—a plump man with a war ax, and a boy holding a staff much like Anna’s. Richard stood at his left. Morgan went to stand off to the left of the stage.

But Anna’s focus was entirely on one thing.

“Have I finally lost it?” Anna whispered to Daryl as the group halted in the doorway. “Am I finally fucking crazy or is that a tiger?”

“It pleases him, indeed!” The man holding the war ax cheered.

“Jerry,” scolded the man she assumed was the King. “Tell me, what news do you bring good King Ezekiel? Are these new allies you’ve brought me?”

“Indeed, they are,” Paul said. “Your Majesty, this is—” Paul turned to the group to introduce them when he paused at the expression that must have been on all of their faces. “Oh, right. I forgot to mention that—”

“Yeah, a tiger,” Rick finished.

The tiger let out a roar from the stage as it laid down beside Ezekiel.

“This is Rick Grimes,” Paul continued, turning back to Ezekiel and approaching. “The leader of Alexandria, and these are some of his people.”

“I welcome you all to the Kingdom, good travelers,” he said as the group approached, spreading out among the seats and keeping a healthy distance from the stage. “Now, what brings you to our fair land?” The King asked. “Why do you seek an audience with the King?”

“Ezekiel—King Ezekiel,” Rick corrected. “Alexandria, the Hilltop, and the Kingdom—all three of our communities have something in common,” Rick went on. “We all serve the Saviors.”

Anna watched the smile drop from Ezekiel’s face.

“Alexandria already fought them once, and we won. We thought we took out the threat, but we didn’t know then what we know now,” Rick explained. “We only beat one outpost. We’ve been told you have a deal with them, that you know them. Then you know they rule through violence and fear.”

Ezekiel looked to Paul.

“Your Majesty, I only told them of the—” Paul began.

“Our deal with the Saviors is not known among my people—for good cause,” Ezekiel interrupted. “We made you a party to that secret when you told us of Hilltop’s own travails, but we did not expect you to share—”

“We can help each other,” Paul insisted.

“Don’t interrupt the King,” Jerry warned.

“We brought you into our confidence,” Ezekiel said. “Why did you break it?”

“Because I want you to hear Rick’s plans,” Paul answered.

“And what plans have you, Rick Grimes of Alexandria?” Ezekiel asked, adjusting his seating.

“We came to ask the Kingdom—to ask you—to join us in fighting the Saviors, fighting for freedom—for all of us,” Rick implored.

“What you are asking is very serious,” Ezekiel said.

“Several of our people—good people—were killed by the Saviors, brutally,” Michonne said as she stood beside Rick.

“Who?” Morgan asked.

“Abraham,” Rosita answered.

“Glenn,” Anna added.

“Spencer, Olivia. Eugene was taken,” Rosita went on. “They took Daryl. He escaped. Every second he’s out here, he’s a target.” Anna subconsciously moved closer to Daryl. “You gonna say you were right?” Rosita sneered.

“No,” Morgan said quickly. “I’m—I’m just real sorry they’re gone.”

“Negan murdered Glenn and Abraham, beat them to death,” Rick elaborated.

“Terrorized the Hilltop, set loose walkers just to make a point,” Sasha informed.

“I used to think the deal was something we could live with,” Paul said. “A lot of us did. But that’s changing. So, let’s change the world, Your Majesty.”

“I want to be honest about what we’re asking,” Rick said, taking a step forward. “My people are strong, but there’s not enough of us. We don’t have guns—not enough, at least. Not a lot of weapons, period.”

“We have people,” Richard said. “And weapons. If we strike first, together, we can beat them.” He looked to the King. “Your Majesty, no more waiting for things to get worse beyond what we can handle. We set things right. The time is now.”

Ezekiel said nothing for a moment.

“Morgan,” he called. “What say you?”

“Me?” Morgan asked, unsure.

“Speak,” Ezekiel said gently.

Anna watched as Morgan took a moment to gather his thoughts. But she already knew what he was going to say.

“People will die. A lot of people, and not just the Saviors. It—” Morgan paused. “If we can find another way. We have to. Maybe it’s just about Negan—just capturing him, holding him. Maybe—I—” he stammered before silencing himself and bowing his head.

“The hour grows late,” Ezekiel announced, getting to his feet as his tiger let out a low growl, standing as well. “Rick Grimes of Alexandria, you have given the King much to ponder.”

“Well, when I was a kid, uh—” Rick started before Ezekiel could leave. “My mother told me a story. There was a road to a kingdom,” he said, gesturing around them, “and there was a rock in the road. And people would just avoid it, but horses would break their legs on it and die, wagon wheels would come off. People would lose the goods they’d be coming to sell. That's what happened to a little girl.”

“The case of beer her family brewed fell right off. It broke. Dirt soaked it all up, and it was gone. That was her family’s last chance. They were hungry. They didn’t have any money. She just sat there and cried, but she wondered why it was still there for it to hurt someone else.”

“So, she dug at that rock in the road with her hands till they bled, used everything she had to pull it out. It took hours. And then when she was gonna fill it up, she saw something in it. It was a bag of gold.”

“All right,” Jerry grinned.

“The king had put that rock in the road because he knew the person who dug it out, who did somethin’, they deserved a reward,” Rick explained. “They deserved to have their life changed for the good. Forever.”

Ezekiel nodded, looking around at them.

“I invite you all to sup with us and stay till the morrow,” he announced.

“Yeah, we need to get back home,” Rick sighed.

“I shall deliver my decree in the morn,” Ezekiel reiterated, banging his cane against the stage twice with finality before he led the tiger off.

* * *

After a very tense dinner, during which Ezekiel refused to hear any more on the subject of the Saviors, Paul led the group into another building and pointed out four rooms along the hall.

“This building is used as living quarters,” Paul explained. “We’ll have to share, but it shouldn’t be too bad.”

“Do you think he’ll agree to it?” Rick asked, turning to Paul.

“Honestly?” Paul sighed. “I don’t know what he’s going to decide. But it won’t be until tomorrow, so we should get some rest.”

Anna grimaced at the assertion, but the others began to split off. Rick, Michonne, and Carl went to the far room on the left side of the hall, while Paul and Jessie headed for the far room on the right. Tara, Rosita, and Sasha disappeared within the room next to theirs, leaving Anna standing in the hall as Daryl headed for the last room.

“You comin’?” He asked as he paused at the door.

Anna nodded and followed him inside, shutting the door behind her. It was a small room, with a twin bed pushed against the wall, a nightstand with a lantern, a dresser and a small table with a water basin. Daryl went to the bed and sat down, untying his boots while Anna set her stick against the dresser, surveying the books and potted plant resting on top. She took a leaf gingerly between her fingers and smoothed her thumb over the top to see that it was real.

“Why’d ya bring the stick?” Daryl asked.

“It’s better than nothing,” Anna replied.

“Right,” Daryl muttered.

She turned to face him as he set his boots under the bed and stretched out, one hand under his head and the other across his stomach.

Anna’s eyes moved over his form, drinking him in. She’d been so sure she would never see him again. Not like this, at least. He was free and as relaxed and comfortable as Daryl ever was. She almost didn’t notice that he was looking back at her.

She turned her back to him and went to the table, setting her left foot on one of the chairs so she could start untying her boot.

“What happened in the office,” she began, unsure of herself but unwilling to let things go unresolved. “I’m sorry. Isaac, he—”

“You ain’t got shit to apologize for,” Daryl said.

Anna untied her other boot and kicked them off before gathering them in her hand and walking to the bed. She placed her shoes beside Daryl’s and sat down on the edge of the bed, Daryl shifting so she had more room.

“I thought you hated me,” she muttered, staring at the tiled floor.

“That was stupid,” Daryl huffed.

Anna furrowed her brow and looked over her shoulder at him.

“But the way you reacted after what I said—”

“Didn’t wanna give that asshole the satisfaction,” Daryl said. “He hit you?”

Anna faced forward again, her fingers finding the tender spot beneath her eye. By now the bruise had turned a greenish-yellow and the throbbing had disappeared. She dropped her hand back to her lap.

“I said something he didn’t like,” she shrugged.

Daryl made an irritated noise and shifted again.

“How did you escape?” She asked as she finally laid down beside him, angling herself onto her side so she wasn’t half on top of him.

“Woman named Sherry slipped me a key when no one was lookin’. I got out and Jesus found me. Took me back to Hilltop,” Daryl explained simply as he turned onto his side so that they faced each other.

“I guess I need to thank them,” Anna said, reaching up and brushing a bit of hair out of his face.

He grabbed her hand and brought her fingers to his lips. Anna leaned forward, moving their hands out of the way, and pressed her lips to his. They kissed long and slow before they finally pulled away. Daryl reached up and turned the lantern off.


	13. Chapter Twelve

Early the next morning, the group followed Richard through the Kingdom as he led them to the King, who was standing watch over an archery lesson.

“This is life here,” Ezekiel started as they gathered behind him. “Every day. But it came at a cost.” He turned to them. “I wanted more of this. I wanted to expand. To create more places like this. Men and women lost their limbs. Children lost their parents because I sent them into battle against the wasted when I did not need to.”

“This is different,” Rick said, stepping forward.

“It isn’t,” Ezekiel sighed.

“It is,” Rick insisted. “The dead don’t rule us. The world doesn’t look like this outside your walls. People don’t have it as good. Some people don’t have it good at all.”

“I have to worry about my people,” Ezekiel said.

“You call yourself a damn king? You sure as hell don’t act like one,” Daryl snapped.

“All of this came at a cost,” Ezekiel repeated, walking to stand in front of Daryl. “It was lives, arms, legs,” he said, pointing at the girl balanced on the stool with one leg.

He turned back to Rick.

“The peace we have with the Saviors is uneasy, but it is peace. I have to hold on to it. I have to try.”

Anna shifted on her feet, leaning against her stick.

“Although the Kingdom cannot grant you the aid you desire, the King is sympathetic to your plight,” Ezekiel said. “I offer our friend Daryl asylum for as long as he requires it. He will be safe here. The Saviors do not set foot inside our walls.”

“How long you think that’s gonna last?” Daryl grumbled, stalking off.

Anna followed after him, and she could hear the others behind her. She dropped back to walk beside Morgan; Rick and Richard were on his other side.

“You can change his mind, but you won’t,” Rick said.

“Then you can stay. We can talk,” Morgan offered.

“What more can we say, Morgan?” Anna asked.

“How many people do we have?” Richard asked from the other side of Rick. “To fight? I’ll go with you.”

“We don’t even have enough to take on one outpost face-to-face yet,” Rick explained.

“So, the Kingdom has to get involved, or the Saviors will always be in charge,” Richard deduced. “It isn’t about soldiers. We’re making them stronger. The more food we give them, the more arms, the more everything, every day any of us give them something, they become harder and harder to beat.”

“Alright, open it up,” Daryl called as they all stopped at the front gate. “We're gone.”

“You’re not,” Rick said as the gate pulled open.

“I’m not staying here,” Daryl sneered.

“You have to. It’s the smartest play. You know it is. Try to talk to Ezekiel,” Rick sighed.

Daryl glared at him.

“Or stare him into submission—” Rick teased. “Whatever it takes. We’ll be back soon.”

The group started down the road to head back to the van, but Anna stayed beside Daryl. Jessie paused when he noticed she wasn’t following, and he turned back to her.

“Anna?” He called, and the others paused too.

“I’m staying with Daryl,” she announced.

“Then I’m staying, too,” Jessie said immediately, walking back to her.

“No,” Anna said. “No, we can’t have too many people from Alexandria staying behind. You need to go back.”

She patted him on the shoulder and gently pushed him toward the others. Jessie huffed.

“Stay safe,” he instructed, giving her a quick hug before he and the others disappeared down the road.

Daryl grumbled something under his breath and stalked off. Anna sighed, watching him go. Morgan cleared his throat, calling her attention.

“Come on, I’ll show you around,” he said, gesturing for her to follow him.

Anna nodded and the two began down the path, passing people gardening or tending to other tasks. She saw the young man from the stage practicing with his stick.

“You’re training him?” Anna asked.

“Benjamin? Yeah,” Morgan said. “He’s good.”

“Good,” Anna echoed.

“You can get some fresh clothes there,” Morgan said, pointing to a group of tables piled with clothes. “I’m sure they’ve got some extra.”

They continued through the Kingdom as Morgan pointed out the different things it had to offer until they were strolling along in silence. Not far off, Anna spotted Ezekiel sitting on a bench with a young blond boy. While she was grateful that the King had allowed her and Daryl to stay, she wished the man was on board. She glanced at Morgan. If he had just advocated for them yesterday, maybe it would have changed Ezekiel’s mind.

“Why didn’t you side with Rick?” She asked. “After what you did for Carol—”

“I didn’t have a choice,” Morgan said, coming to a halt. “He didn’t—he didn’t give me a choice.”

Anna stopped and turned to face him.

“There’s always a choice, Morgan. You taught me that. Someone was going to die—you chose who did.”

“I’m beginnin’ to realize that. But shouldn’t we avoid having to make that choice if we can?” He entreated.

“If we can,” Anna agreed. “We tried the peaceful option; maybe we weren’t all as subservient as we could’ve been, but we tried. Blood was still spilled. So, we either go on as we have been and they continue to kill our people just to prove their points, or we fight. There is no middle ground. Either way, it ends in bloodshed.”

“I’m sorry,” Morgan sighed, wiping his hand down his face. “Maybe you’re right, maybe we can’t always avoid it, but I can’t get behind rallying people for that. I just can’t.”

“I know,” Anna said, shaking her head. “I wasn’t trying to change your mind. I just wanted you to understand where we’re coming from. We can’t let this keep happening.”

“I get it. I won’t get in the way,” Morgan assured. “Ezekiel asked me for my opinion, so I gave it to him. I couldn’t lie, not even for Rick.”

* * *

Anna walked down the hall, looking through the stack of clothes one of the Kingdomers had seen fit to give her as she balanced her stick under her arm. With her hands full, she pushed the door to her and Daryl’s room open with her hip and kicked it shut before she made for the dresser.

“What’s that?”

Anna whirled around, spotting Daryl lounging on the bed.

“Clothes,” she said, holding them up briefly before turning back to the dresser. “Did I wake you? I’m sorry.”

“Nah,” he assured, and she heard him shifting.

She set her stick against the wall before placing the clothes in the dresser, setting his on the left side of the drawer and hers on the right, pulling a fresh powder-blue, cotton shirt from the stack.

“The people seem nice here,” she commented absently as she pulled her T-shirt off.

“I guess,” Daryl muttered.

Anna went to the water basin in the corner and wiped the sweat from her skin.

“We don’t know how long we’re going to be here; we might as well get along with them,” Anna reasoned, dabbing at her skin with the hand towel.

“It ain’t gonna be for long,” Daryl grumbled.

She pulled the fresh shirt on and turned to him, seeing that he’d moved to sit on the edge of the bed, resting his elbows against his knees.

“However long it takes,” Anna corrected. “I don’t want to call this fairyland of a place home either. But I want you to be safe.”

“You didn’t have to stay,” Daryl said.

“I know I didn’t,” Anna shrugged.

Daryl shook his head, his hair falling in his face. Anna pursed her lips as a curiosity tugged at her.

“When this is all over…, what then?” She asked, returning to the dresser so that she didn’t have to look at him when he answered.

“What d’ya mean?”

“After we win, after we beat Negan, what do we do then?” She asked. “What happens after?”

“What do you want to happen after?” He asked carefully.

“I don’t know. I—” Anna huffed, bracing herself against the dresser.

What did she want? She wasn’t sure why she was so nervous.

“I want it to be you and me,” she said softly. “Just you and me in a little house in the woods where we can hunt and live and just _be_.”

She turned around, still leaning against the dresser, taking a breath before she finally looked at him.

“Do you think that’s something you might want too?” She asked.

Daryl was quiet for a long time, and she could feel the anxiety building up in her chest.

“Let’s get through this first,” he finally said.

“Okay,” she said weakly.

It wasn’t the answer she had wanted—it wasn’t really an answer at all—but as she picked up her stick, she told herself that he was right; the Saviors came first, and everything else would come after.

* * *

Anna and Daryl walked down the porch, headed for the training yard when they heard the sound of engines pulling up. As they neared the end of the porch, they saw Ezekiel, Morgan, and a few others climbing out of trucks. Ezekiel exchanged some words with Benjamin before walking away with Jerry and Diane. Richard headed off alone.

“Hey,” Daryl called. “Where’d you go in them trucks?” He asked when Morgan and Benjamin looked to them still standing on the porch.

“I need to speak with Daryl alone,” Morgan said, walking toward them. “That okay?” He asked Benjamin.

“Yeah, sure,” Benjamin said.

“Benjamin,” Anna called before he could walk away.

She and Daryl started down the steps.

“Do you want to train with me?” She asked. “I haven’t had anyone to spar with in a long time.”

“Yeah,” Benjamin said, gesturing for her to follow him.

He led them to the gazebo where she’d seen Morgan training earlier in the morning. They stood across from each other and bowed before getting into first position.

“Did Morgan teach you too?” He asked as he swung his stick horizontally.

She knocked his stick off its course easily enough and gently bumped him in the side with hers.

“Yeah,” she replied as she side-stepped another swing of his stick. “For a little while.”

She didn’t think he needed to know that Morgan had decided to discontinue her training and she’d been on her own since.

“Well, don’t go easy on me,” Benjamin chastised.

Anna raised a brow at him but she adjusted her stance as he brought his stick over his head and back toward her. She ducked, her eyes spotting an opening. Without warning, Anna kicked out her foot, hooking it around Benjamin’s ankle and pulling his foot out from under him. He shouted in surprise as he toppled onto his back, losing his hold on his stick. It clattered to the ground beside him.

“Hey!”

She straightened and pressed her lips together to keep from smirking.

“I thought we were sparring with the stick,” he griped, his cheeks taking on a slight shade of pink.

“We were. I’m sorry—that wasn’t fair,” she conceded, offering her hand to help him up.

He reluctantly took her hand, and she hauled him to his feet before he scooped up his stick.

“Teachable moment, though. You’re focusing so much on what’s happening up here,” she explained, gesturing with her hand to indicate the top half of his body, “that you left your feet open. You’ve got to teach yourself to be aware of the whole picture.”

“Did Morgan teach you that?” He asked.

“No. I learned that in the army.”

“You were in the army?”

“Some time after the turn. For seven months,” she clarified.

“Thanks for the tip,” Benjamin said, nodding thoughtfully.

“Do you want to keep going?” She asked.

“Yeah,” he said firmly, getting into his stance.

They continued to spar for an hour before they decided to take a break, sitting on the steps of the gazebo to rest, each nursing a bottle of water. Ezekiel walked up then, Jerry following close behind him.

“So, you are also trained in the stick?” Ezekiel asked as he stopped in front of them.

“Yup,” Anna said, setting her water bottle down between her legs.

“Dope,” Jerry grinned, and Anna gave him a thumbs up with a small smile.

“Was it Morgan who trained you?” Ezekiel pushed.

“It was,” Anna nodded, propping her elbows up against her knees and leaning forward.

“And yet you advocate for violence,” he observed.

“I advocate for peace—true peace,” she corrected. “Not a false sense of security.”

“You speak plainly.”

“Force of habit, your Majesty.”

“As I have said, the peace between the Kingdom and the Saviors is fragile, but we must hold on to what we have managed to create for as long as we can,” Ezekiel said.

“False peace is not worth holding on to,” she said, picking up her water and standing.

“Are you certain it is not your grief that drives you?” He asked. “The Saviors have taken much from you, as they have done us, but we cannot let our grief turn to hatred and blind us.”

“‘The true soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he loves what is behind him,’” Anna recited.

“Wise words,” Ezekiel nodded.

“G.K. Chesterton,” Anna said.

“I thank you for your candor, Anna of Alexandria. But my decision stands,” Ezekiel said firmly. “I bid you a good evening. Come, Jerry.”

Anna watched as the two carried off, and Benjamin got to his feet beside her.

“Look, I think you’re right, but Ezekiel’s not going to change his mind,” Benjamin sighed.

“I know,” Anna admitted as she picked up her stick. “But it was worth a shot. Thanks for sparring with me.”

“Yeah, no problem,” Benjamin said as Anna stepped away from him.

“See you around—and keep practicing, you’re good,” Anna called over her shoulder as she headed for the living quarters.


	14. Chapter Thirteen

“I need to speak with Daryl alone,” Morgan said, walking toward Anna and Daryl as they came to stand at the end of the porch. “That okay?” He asked Benjamin.

“Yeah, sure,” Benjamin said.

“Benjamin,” Anna called before he could walk away.

She and Daryl started down the steps.

“Do you want to train with me?” She asked. “I haven’t had anyone to spar with in a long time.”

“Yeah,” Benjamin said, gesturing for her to follow him.

Daryl watched as Anna walked away with the kid before he turned his attention back to Morgan.

“You went to see them, right?” Daryl asked.

“Yeah,” Morgan admitted.

“Part of your deal?” He sneered. “What the hell’s wrong with you? You’re bleedin’. They did that to you. You know what they are.”

“I do,” Morgan nodded.

“You know, if Carol were here, she saw all that—” he waved his hand at Morgan. “—if she knew about Abraham and Glenn, she'd be leading us right to them, ready to kill them all.”

“She would,” Morgan agreed. “And that's why she left, man.”

Daryl ground his teeth, glaring at Morgan for a moment before he scoffed and stalked off.

_Full of shit._

A horse whinnied in the distance as he made his way through the Kingdom, people quickly moving out of his way, until he spotted Richard at the archery range. Without much thought, he made his way over just as Richard fired an arrow into one of the targets.

“I’m practicing,” Richard explained when he noticed Daryl. “Gonna have to start using these more. The Saviors are smart enough to know I shouldn’t have a gun around them.”

Daryl said nothing as he surveyed the bows on the table between them, his eyes lingering on a black crossbow. Richard lowered his bow and stepped up to the table.

“Morgan said you’re a bowman,” he said, picking up the crossbow and holding it out to Daryl.

Daryl stared at Richard for a moment, knowing there was a catch to his offer.

“Why?” Daryl asked, taking the bow.

“'Cause we want the same things,” Richard said. “I need your help.”

* * *

Richard and Daryl made it out of the Kingdom without drawing too much attention. No one seemed inclined to ask questions. Daryl figured that was how Ezekiel had managed to keep his deal with the Saviors a secret. The two made their way through the woods in relative silence, Richard leading the way.

“Why didn’t you tell Anna about this?” Richard asked.

“She don’t need to get involved,” Daryl said simply.

“She wants this war, too, doesn’t she?” Richard pushed. “Or is she like Morgan and thinks talking is going to solve our problems?”

“She does what she’s gotta, but she don’t need to be here,” Daryl said firmly.

“If you say so,” Richard finally relented.

Daryl hadn’t told Anna about whatever Richard was planning so she would have plausible deniability. She couldn’t get in trouble for something she knew nothing about. If she knew what they were doing she’d insist on helping—if only to keep him safe.

Richard stopped at a large sign leaned against some foliage and moved it aside, revealing the door to an RV. He led Daryl inside and went to a closet toward the back, taking out two assault rifles, passing one to Daryl, along with ammo.

“We need something to move Ezekiel,” Richard said. “This is it. Alexandria, the Hilltop, and the Kingdom hitting first, hitting hard, and then we wipe the Saviors from the Earth. Keeping people—dozens and dozens and dozens of good people—keeping them safe.”

Daryl grunted his agreement as Richard began to prepare Molotovs. He looked around at the RV, at all the supplies Richard had stored there, and knew he’d been planning something for a long time.

Once he was satisfied with the amount, Richard packed the cocktails into a pack and pulled it onto his back. Daryl grabbed another pack and filled it with the extra ammo before the two left the RV.

Richard led them to a road, and they followed it until, just past a sign which read cemetery, they came upon a semi that had been abandoned on the shoulder.

They hid behind the semi and set their packs down.

“They ride this road,” Richard explained. “If we see cars, it's the Saviors. They've been coming in packs of two or three lately. That's why I need you. I can't take them alone. We're gonna hit them with the guns first, and then the Molotovs. Then back to the guns until they're dead.”

“Why the fire?” He asked.

“Needs to look bad,” Richard said. “The Saviors who discover what's left—we want them to be angry. I left a trail from here to the weapons cache I planted, to the cabin of someone Ezekiel cares about.”

“Who's that?”

“It's just some loner he met. Sometimes he brings food,” Richard shrugged, kneeling down to unpack the Molotovs.

“Why don't they live in the Kingdom?” Daryl pushed.

“I don't know. She lives out there, she'll die out there,” Richard huffed.

“It's a woman?” Daryl tensed.

“What does that matter? She's got more balls than you and me,” Richard snapped. “She's gonna die either way. When the Saviors come and find their buddies dead, if they know their elbow from their asshole and can follow an obvious spoor, they're gonna go to the weapons cache and then to the cabin, and they're gonna attack this woman.”

“What's her name?” Daryl growled.

“Maybe they kill her, maybe they don't,” Richard went on as if he hadn’t heard Daryl’s question, “but it's gonna show Ezekiel what he needs to do.”

“Her name. What is it?” Daryl demanded.

“She's tough. Maybe she'll live.”

“Say her damn name!”

Richard paused and sighed before standing and turning to Daryl.

“Carol,” he finally said. “I hoped you didn't know her, but I didn't think you'd care, 'cause you know what needs to happen.”

“No.”

“Maybe she'll live. Look, this—this is how—this is how this could happen. This is how we can get rid of the Saviors, how we all can have a future,” Richard reasoned. “She's living out there on her own, just waiting to die.”

“No!” Daryl repeated, grabbing the pack of ammo, his rifle, and his crossbow before starting toward the woods.

“If we don't do anything, a hell of a lot more people are gonna die, people who want to live!” Richard warned.

“You stay the hell away from Carol, you hear me?” Daryl snarled, dropping the rifle and stepping towards Richard.

There was the sound of vehicles approaching and they turned, peering around the semi to see two trucks speeding toward them.

“It’s them,” Richard confirmed. “Look, we can wait for things to go bad, we lose people—or we can do the hard thing and choose our fate for ourselves.”

“No.”

“Sorry,” Richard said, hoisting his rifle and readying himself.

Daryl dropped his weapons and grabbed Richard by the armor, yanking him back and throwing him to the ground. He quickly fell on top of him, holding him down as the trucks grew closer. Daryl began punching him for good measure, Richard’s nose spurting blood.

Richard reached out and smashed something solid against the side of Daryl’s face, knocking him off. But it was too late; the sound of the trucks was already fading into the distance.

Daryl scrambled to his feet, snatching up his crossbow and aiming it at Richard as the other man aimed his rifle.

“There'll be more. Or those—they're gonna ride back this way later,” Richard said. “We'll have another chance. But we're running out of time. If you and your people want to move against the Saviors, you need to do it soon, and you need the Kingdom. What we have to do requires sacrifice one way or another. Guys like us, we've already lost so much.”

“You don't know me,” Daryl sneered, glaring down his sights.

“I know that Carol, living on her own like that, she might as well be dead right now.”

Daryl clenched his jaw, but lowered his crossbow.

“She gets hurt, she dies, if she catches a fever, if she's taken out by a walker, if she gets hit by lightnin’—anything—anything happens to her, I'll kill you,” Daryl said.

He slung his crossbow over his shoulder and grabbed his pack and rifle.

“I would die for the Kingdom,” Richard insisted, lowering his gun.

“Why don't you?” Daryl sneered before turning and walking away.

* * *

Daryl quickly found and followed the trail Richard had left, making his way through the woods until he came upon a little house with a group of people standing in the yard. He immediately recognized Ezekiel as he spoke to the person standing just out of sight. The sound of Carol’s voice telling them to leave only confirmed what he already knew.

He waited in the trees for Ezekiel and his entourage to finally leave before he made his way to the front door. He hesitated a moment before he finally knocked.

After a minute the door swung open, irritation on Carol’s face until she realized who she was looking at. She rushed forward, pulling him into a hug.

“Okay,” he said after a moment of holding her, and they pulled apart.

She wiped at her face, looking questioningly at him.

“Jesus took us to the Kingdom,” he explained. “Morgan said you just left. I was out here. I saw you.”

She nodded.

“Why’d you go?” He asked, and he hated the way his voice nearly broke.

“I had to.”

* * *

It was dark out, and Carol busied herself with preparing dinner. She sat by the fire, waiting for the food to finish heating, while Daryl sat at the dining table.

“I couldn't lose anyone,” she began after they’d been mostly quiet. “I couldn't lose any of them. I couldn't lose you. I couldn't kill them. I could,” she corrected. “I would. If they hurt any of our people—any more of them—that's what I would do. And there wouldn't be anything left of me after that,” she said, staring into the fire before she looked to him. “The Saviors—did they come?”

“Yeah,” Daryl muttered.

“Did anyone get hurt? Is everybody okay? Did the Saviors—” Carol asked, her voice cracking. “Is everybody back home okay?”

Daryl didn’t say anything—he wasn’t quite sure what to say. Morgan’s words came back to mind. She’d left because she couldn’t do it anymore.

“Daryl,” she pleaded.

He couldn’t make her do it anymore.

“They came,” he said. “We got ‘em all. Made a deal with the rest of ‘em, like Ezekiel.”

It burned him to lie to Carol, but the relief that came over her assured him it was the right thing.

“Everyone’s all right. Everyone’s all right,” he recited, as if it would make it true.

Carol wiped her face, and Daryl cleared his throat.

“We gonna eat or—or I gotta be a king or somethin’ to get food around here?” He asked, changing the subject.

“Shut up,” Carol laughed, picking up the pot of chili and taking it to the table.

She dished him a bowl before filling her own and sitting down.

“How’s Anna? Is she with you?”

“Yeah, she’s here. She’s good,” Daryl said through a mouthful of food.

“Just good?” She asked, raising a brow at him.

“She’s—uh—” he paused and wiped his mouth. “She’s been talkin’..., ‘bout the future.”

“The future? She ask you to marry her or somethin’?” Carol teased.

“No,” Daryl said quickly. “She just… I don’t know.”

“Whatever she said,” Carol sighed, “Were you okay with it?”

Daryl shoveled more of the chili into his mouth, if only to give him more time to think. He wasn’t unhappy with what she had envisioned for them—in fact, it sounded nice. Being away from all the shit, just hunting and living and existing together in the woods; it sounded right.

“Yeah,” he finally said.

“So, what’s bothering you about it?” Carol asked.

He tapped his fingers against the bowl.

Daryl couldn’t tell her that the thought of a future hadn’t occurred to him. That he was too angry to think of something so good, or to even hope that he’d live long enough to have it. If he told Carol any of that, he’d have to tell her that it was the Saviors that stood in the way of it. He’d have to tell her what happened.

And, he would have to tell her that he was scared—not of the Saviors, or of dying. He was scared that he wouldn’t be able to give Anna that future.

“Nothin’.” Daryl lied.

Carol pressed her lips together but nodded, turning back to her dinner.

“Ezekiel—is he okay?” Daryl asked.

“Yeah, I think he is,” Carol said.

* * *

After dinner, Daryl grabbed his things, and Carol walked him to the door. He started down the walkway and paused, turning back to see Carol standing on the porch, hands in her pockets. Before he could talk himself out of it, Daryl went back and wrapped an arm around her, feeling her hugging him back. He almost didn’t want to let go, but he pulled away.

“Watch out for yourself, alright?” He said.

“You too,” she said, nodding.

Finally, he turned and started back down the path to the Kingdom. He made himself keep looking straight ahead; if he turned around, he may just tell Carol everything. He couldn’t do that to her.

* * *

Daryl sat on the floor in front of the cage, Shiva pacing back and forth before approaching him. He wasn’t quite sure why he had come here.

“Well, you’re good with her.”

He looked to the door to see Morgan walking in.

“Ezekiel will be impressed,” Morgan said.

“Well, figure any guy that has a pet tiger can’t be that bad,” Daryl shrugged, looking back to Shiva for a moment before turning his attention fully on Morgan. “He’s okay by Carol.”

Morgan pressed his lips together.

“Yeah, I found her—out in that little house,” Daryl explained.

“Look, what I said,” Morgan started. “When I said she just went away—it’s what she told me to do.”

“No, I get it,” Daryl assured. “We need the Kingdom. You gotta make that happen.”

“I’m sorry. I mean, I—I really am, but, uh—” Morgan stammered, shaking his head. “It can’t be me.”

Daryl got to his feet with a sigh.

“Look, whatever it is you’re holdin’ on to—it’s already gone, man,” he said. “Wake the hell up.”

He turned and grabbed his pack and crossbow, preparing to leave.

“You’re the same as me, Daryl,” Morgan said, and Daryl paused.

“You don’t know shit about me,” Daryl snapped.

“No, I do,” he corrected. “‘Cause you didn’t tell Carol what happened. You didn’t, ‘cause she’d be here otherwise. And I’m glad for that. See, we’re all holdin’ on to somethin’.”

Daryl felt a nudge against his hand, and his eyes darted down to see Shiva pressing her face against the bars. He turned his hand to let his fingers brush over her fur.

“I’m goin’ back to Hilltop in the mornin’ and gettin’ ready,” Daryl declared.

He pulled away from Shiva and without another word he left, steering himself toward the living quarters. When he got to the door to his and Anna’s room, he saw the light shining from the bottom.

Rather than delay the inevitable, Daryl pushed the door open to find her sitting cross-legged on the bed, one of her knees bouncing.

“Where have you been?” She asked the moment he stepped through the door.

“Out,” he said, mentally kicking himself for the flippant response. “I went with Richard,” he elaborated.

“Richard came back hours ago,” she said before taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to sound like the crazy girlfriend. It’s just after—I was worried.”

Daryl set his pack and crossbow on the table and turned to lean against it, facing her.

“He wanted to get Ezekiel to help us. I stopped him,” Daryl said.

“Why?” Anna asked, furrowing her brow.

“‘Cause he was gonna get Carol killed.”

“Carol?” She asked, sitting straighter.

“Yeah, I found her,” Daryl nodded.

“Is she okay?”

“She will be,” Daryl assured. “She’s where she needs to be. And we’re not gonna tell anyone where that is.”

“You didn’t tell her what happened,” she said, and he knew she understood.

“Look, we ain’t gettin’ anywhere with Ezekiel. We’re wastin’ our time. We need to be gettin’ ready, not hidin’ out in Disneyland,” Daryl said.

“So, we leave in the morning?” Anna asked.

“For Hilltop, yeah,” Daryl said, surprised that she didn’t argue. “You’re good with that?”

“You’re right,” Anna shrugged, scooting to the edge of the bed to start pulling her boots off. “We need the Kingdom, but we can’t waste our time trying to convince someone who’s already made up his mind.”

Daryl nodded and sat down beside her, kicking his own boots off before they stretched out beside each other on the small bed.

“Break of day, we’re gone,” Anna yawned, sliding her hand into his. He curled his fingers around hers and looked at her.

_“Whatever she said, were you okay with it?”_


	15. Chapter Fourteen

After fixing her laces, Anna stood, picking up her stick. Daryl stood beside her with his new crossbow slung over his shoulder. She glanced over at Morgan, who stood by the front gates to see them off.

They approached the gates, the guards pulling them open, when Anna stopped in front of Morgan. He handed her a backpack.

“I put some food and water in there for you two,” he said.

“Thank you,” Anna said, accepting the pack and pulling it onto her back. “You’re doing good with Benjamin. I’m glad you found him.”

Morgan nodded and gave her a tight-lipped smile.

“I wish you two were stayin’,” he said. “It isn’t safe out there.”

Daryl scoffed beside her.

“It won’t ever be safe until we do something about it,” Anna reasoned. “See you around, Morgan.”

“See ya,” he sighed.

Without further discussion, Anna and Daryl headed out of the Kingdom, directing themselves to Hilltop. She could hear the gates closing behind them, but she didn’t look back.

* * *

They had left the Kingdom early in the morning. They were in the middle of the woods now, having chosen to keep away from the main roads. Anna had suggested a visit with Carol before they went too far, but Daryl had insisted on leaving her alone. She understood why Daryl didn’t want to go see Carol—he didn’t want to have to lie to her anymore. She still felt a little dejected.

"We’ll reach Hilltop tonight,” Anna commented, squinting at the sun; climbing higher in the sky.

Daryl’s only response was a nod as they continued walking. It was quiet between them for a long time, and Anna found her mind wandering. The birds chirped in the trees and squirrels jumped between the branches as they moved quietly. It was nice being out in the woods with him—she couldn’t remember the last time they had gone hunting together.

Anna’s stomach gave a low growl at the thought of fresh venison, and she glanced up at the sun again. It had to be about lunch time.

“We should find somewhere to rest soon,” she said. “Maybe eat something—we skipped breakfast.”

“Alright. Soon as we find some place,” he agreed.

They walked for a while longer when movement caught Anna’s attention—a squirrel darting up a tree. But her eyes focused on something beyond that. It looked like stacked stone, and she quickly realized that it was a chimney.

“Hey,” Anna called, stopping. “Looks like there’s a house over there. Let’s go check it out.”

“Why?” Daryl asked. “Probably already been cleaned out.”

“Well, maybe it’s a good place to take a breather,” she huffed.

Daryl rolled his eyes before gesturing for her to lead the way. She grinned at him and started through the trees. Eventually, she came upon a clearing, and she paused at the sight of a small, light-green cottage and an old, blue pick-up truck.

Aside from the fact that the house was covered in dirt and leaves and the flower bed was overgrown with weeds, it looked to be in good enough condition.

Daryl brushed past her and walked toward the house before stopping and looking back at her.

“You comin’?” He asked.

“Yeah,” Anna said, quickly following after him.

They walked up the porch steps and positioned themselves on either side of the front door. Anna dug two flashlights out of her pack and passed one to Daryl. She waited for him to nod before she turned the knob and pushed the door open. He swung around, aiming his crossbow as he walked inside.

They made their way through the house, the layer of dust indicating that no one had been there in a long time. They cleared the living room, kitchen, and bedroom before they found a small door tucked away in the corner of the kitchen. There were two sets of stairs, one leading down and another leading up.

“I’ll go down?” Anna offered

“That’s always fun,” Daryl snorted.

“Shut up,” Anna laughed quietly.

Daryl smirked at her before he made his way up the stairs and Anna started down. She held her stick at the ready and her flashlight out in front of her as she turned around a corner.

The basement was all stone walls and cement floor with a stone pillar in the middle of the room. In one corner was a washer and dryer and in another were shelves covered in cobwebs, jars, and cans. No walkers in sight.

Anna looked over the shelves, seeing what looked like preserved fruits in the jars and various cans of peas and corn. She checked some of the sell-by dates and saw that most of them needed to be tossed. She made her way around the basement, taking stock of the coal and wood piled in another corner. Satisfied with her sweep, she headed back to the kitchen, where she found Daryl rummaging through empty cabinets.

“Find anythin’?” He asked as he shut another cabinet.

“Some preserved fruits and expired peas,” she said, hopping onto the kitchen table, her feet dangling. “What did you find?”

“Whole lotta nothin’,” Daryl grumbled before gesturing to the white stove. “It’s propane. Might still have some juice left. Place like this—out here—probably runs on well water.”

“I’ll get to cookin’ then,” Anna said, jumping off the table and pulling her pack off.

She took out a can of chili and a box of matches before she hunted down a pot, deciding to test Daryl’s theory by turning on the kitchen sink. After sputtering a moment, water spilled out of the faucet at a steady pace.

Anna quickly rinsed the dust off the pot and turned the faucet off before moving to the stove. She turned the knob for the front-right burner, held a lit match to it, and watched as flame burst up until it settled down enough for her to set the pot down and empty the can of chili.

Daryl washed a large spoon and passed it to her before he started cleaning a couple of bowls for them. She couldn’t help but smile as she stirred the chili to make sure it heated evenly.

Once the chili started to bubble, Anna turned the burner off and dished out their lunch. She moved their bowls to the table and the two sat down across from each other. Neither said much; for her part, Anna was too hungry and the food tasted too good to waste time talking.

She glanced around the kitchen and considered how it looked quite a lot like her grandparents’. She’d always loved her grandparents’ house. She remembered how she and Jessie used to jump from the porch just to see who could launch themselves the furthest.

Anna let out a soft laugh and shook her head as she took the last bite of her chili.

“What’s so funny?” Daryl asked.

“Nothing,” she said. “It’s just…, this is a lot like my grandparents’ house.”

Daryl nodded, scooping the last of his food into his mouth. He dropped the spoon in the bowl with a loud clatter and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as he got to his feet. He grabbed his crossbow, slinging it over his shoulder. Anna set her own spoon down but didn’t stand. She drummed her fingers across the table.

“You comin’?” Daryl asked.

“Yeah, I just—” she stopped herself. “Maybe we could stay for a little bit longer?”

“Why?” He asked, furrowing his brow at her.

“We haven’t looked through the whole house—there could be something good here,” she reasoned, pushing herself to her feet.

She wondered what Daryl was thinking as he stared at her.

“Fine, whatever,” he relented.

Anna smiled and hurried out of the kitchen. She started searching in the living room, checking under the cushions of the couch, rifling through drawers and skimming the two, overflowing, floor-to-ceiling bookcases. For good measure, she ran her hand along the inner wall of the fireplace. All the while, Daryl watched her as he leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest.

She paused and looked around the room for any more places to search. She couldn’t help but imagine herself curled up at one end of the couch, reading a book while the fire crackled, with Daryl by her side. She shook the thought from her mind.

Finding nothing, she moved to the small bathroom, rummaging through the medicine cabinet. Still, she came up empty handed, and she headed for the bedroom at the back of the house. She trailed her fingers over the wallpaper as she walked down the hall, only stopping once she reached the open bedroom door.

Her search lost energy as she pulled open the drawers—the dresser was filled with an assortment of clothes, and the nightstands were filled with notepads, pens, and junk mail. She opened the chest at the foot of the bed, finding extra blankets and a leather-bound book.

She pulled it out and went to sit on the edge of the bed, opening it to the first page. She read the first line once before searching the rest of the book for more, only to find that it was blank, except for that one thing.

_Often, we mistake grief for anger, and respond accordingly._

“Anna!” Daryl called, and she could see him walking down the hall. “Come on, you ain’t findin’ nothin’ here.”

He stopped in the doorway and eyed her.

“Let’s go,” he urged. “We’re wastin’ daylight.”

Anna closed the book and ran her hand over the soft cover. It was like this book—this house—was waiting for them.

_“I want it to be you and me,” she said softly. “Just you and me in a little house in the woods where we can hunt and live and just be.”_

“We can stay,” she whispered.

“What?” Daryl asked, stepping into the room.

“We don’t have to leave,” Anna said past the lump forming in her throat as she looked up at Daryl. “We could stay. They wouldn’t find us here. We’d be safe.”

He pressed his lips together, and she could see he was trying to find the right words.

“Look, I get it,” he finally started. “Bein’ out here, this house, bein’ with you—it feels right. This is the life you want. I want it, too. But we can’t have it yet. And you wouldn’t want to leave the others to fight on their own, anyhow.”

Anna sucked in a breath and nodded.

“You’re right,” she said, bowing her head.

She hated it all the same.

“Hey,” Daryl said, and she looked up at him. “When this is all over, we’ll come back here.”

“Promise?” Anna asked, standing.

“Yeah, I promise,” he assured, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and led her out of the room.

* * *

It was late by the time they saw the walls of Hilltop; the sun had already set. They lingered in the tree line for a moment, scanning the area for any signs of Saviors. When they saw nothing, they started up the hill.

“Who’s there?” Called one of the guards.

“It’s Anna from Alexandria. Open the gates,” she called back, not mentioning Daryl, though he was clearly beside her.

The guard disappeared, and the gates creaked open just enough for them to walk through before shutting them inside the relative safety of the Hilltop. The two made their way up the path toward Barrington House.

“Anna? Daryl?”

They paused and looked to their right to see Emma hurrying toward them.

“What are you guys doing here? Jesus said you were staying at the Kingdom,” Emma said.

“We ain’t wastin’ our time there,” Daryl huffed.

“Maggie, Sasha, and Enid—are they okay?” Anna asked.

“Yeah,” Emma assured, gesturing for them to follow her. “Jesus put them up in his trailer—they didn’t want to stay in the house.”

She led them to a trailer, light filtering out of the windows.

“We were just talking about organizing training sessions,” Emma explained as she pulled the door open and stepped inside.

“Guys, look who decided to join us,” she announced as Anna and Daryl filed in.

“What the hell are you two doing here?” Sasha asked, smiling as she walked up and pulled them each into a hug.

“You’re supposed to be at the Kingdom—where it’s safe,” Maggie stressed.

“We weren’t going to convince Ezekiel of anything. At least here, we can do something,” Anna said as Daryl moved to lean against the wall.

She noted the stiffness of his posture, and the way he kept his eyes on the ground. Standing straight, Anna began recounting what happened at the Kingdom, careful to leave out any information regarding Carol.

“We left this morning,” she finished.

“You walked the whole way? You guys must be exhausted,” Emma said, shaking her head.

“And hungry,” Maggie added. “Why don’t you two sit down and eat.”

“While you do that, I’ll get a room set up for you guys in the house,” Emma declared, heading for the door.

Anna nodded as Enid fixed two plates.

“So, you’re gonna help me train the Hilltop?” Sasha asked, looking to Anna.

“Yeah,” Anna said, accepting the plate Enid offered her. “We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

“Fair enough,” Sasha relented.

“Here, sit down,” Maggie said, pulling out a chair.

Anna happily sat down and devoured her food as the others conversed about one thing or another. She didn’t pay much attention as she ate and kept Daryl in her peripheral, still standing against the wall as he ate.

It didn’t take them long to finish, and Emma returned. There was another round of hugs and a bid of goodnight before Anna and Daryl followed Emma to the house.

“I know staying in the same house as Gregory isn’t ideal, but we don’t have any more trailers available,” Emma explained as they walked into the dark house and up the stairs.

They made their way down a hall, where Emma stopped at an open door.

“And here you are,” she said. “I put some extra clothes in there, some towels, and some fresh water. I’m right across the hall if you need anything.”

“Thank you,” Anna said.

“Of course. Goodnight,” Emma smiled before turning and disappearing into her room.

Anna and Daryl shut themselves inside their new accommodations and pulled off their boots, too tired to do anything more as they collapsed onto the bed, not even bothering to pull back the covers.

As she slowly drifted off, she felt Daryl’s hand slip into hers.


	16. Chapter Fifteen

Anna jolted awake, her breath coming in short bursts as she stared around the dark room. The warm hand in hers reminded her of where she was and where she wasn’t, and she could feel her heart rate slowing.

She was in Hilltop, in a bed with Daryl. They were safe.

Daryl’s hand closed around hers, and she felt him shift beside her before an oil lamp bathed the room in a soft yellow glow. He turned over so that he was facing her.

“You alright?” He asked, his voice scratchy and just a little groggy.

“Yeah. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” Anna said softly.

“It was another nightmare, right?”

Anna clenched her jaw. She hated when she woke him up—however rare that was.

“They’ve been getting worse,” she admitted, sitting up against the headboard.

She had told him about her nightmares before, but now things were different. Now, the nightmares didn’t end when she woke up. Isaac was still alive, Glenn and Abraham were still dead, and she still had to live with all of it.

Daryl sat up beside her, pressing his arm against hers. She knew he didn’t have anything to tell her, no way to make it all better, but the feeling of his warmth against her was enough, and so they sat quietly until the sun started filtering through the thick green curtains.

“When you were with the Saviors…,” Anna started, guilt choking out the words before she could say them. She sucked in a breath. “I should have gone after you, I should have—I didn’t even try to help you.”

“You were scared,” Daryl said easily. “It’s not on you.”

_“They would’ve killed me.”_

Anna squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the man’s trembling voice. She wanted to convince herself that it was different—and maybe it was—but she still felt the cold seeping into her bones. Her fingers twitched as she rubbed at her thigh, trying to ease the tingle in her skin.

“He did that to you, right?”

“What?” Anna asked, looking to Daryl.

“Those scars,” he said, nodding toward her thigh.

Anna clenched her jaw, looking forward as she pulled her knees up and held them to her chest. She had never liked to talk about her scars—she’d done her best to hide the ones she could.

“I didn’t think you had seen them,” she said as shame crept its way up from her gut, heating her skin. “I—they’re…they’re from before Isaac. Most of them, anyway.”

“What are you sayin’?” Daryl asked, frowning at her.

An old memory surfaced of a younger her and a younger Glenn sitting in her tent as he questioned her about it.

_“Anti-depressants. I’m supposed to take them every day – but, since I don’t exactly have access to refills, I’ve only been using them when it gets really bad.”_

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d taken a mood-stabilizer. Sometimes, she still caught herself looking for them on runs. Anything to get the thoughts and urges out of her head. She thought of Rick’s face when he had seen her scars.

_“I’ve been doing it again,” she had told Jessie. “I want it to stop.”_

And she had stopped. It took everything she had to keep herself from digging her nails into her skin. She had wanted to tell Daryl, to seek some sort of support for her recovery. But she couldn’t. She had seen and felt the scars on his back. She couldn’t convince herself that he’d understand—why would anyone want to do something like that to themselves?

“I did it,” she finally said, her voice quiet. “I did it to myself.”

He didn’t say anything for a long time. She braced herself for the inevitable, but it seemed he couldn't find any words.

She moved to sit at the edge of the bed, pressing her feet against the hardwood floor. She pulled her boots to her and put them on.

“Where ya goin’?” Daryl asked.

“I need to train,” she answered, grabbing her stick and heading for the door.

Daryl didn’t try to stop her as she left, shutting the door behind her.

Anna headed outside in search of a good place to train away from prying eyes. She found her way around to the back of the house. When she turned around a corner, she paused.

There were two graves resting in front of her. She felt her heart constrict.

“Glenn is in the far one.”

Anna jumped and turned around, seeing Sasha leaning against the wall.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude,” Anna said quickly.

“You’re not intruding,” Sasha assured, gesturing for Anna to move closer. “Honestly, I was wondering when you were gonna come here.”

Anna turned back to the graves and went to stand between them. Little blades of grass poked out between the piles of rocks that held up the crosses made of small branches.

“It feels like so long ago,” Anna muttered. “It’s hard to believe it’s only been eight days.”

“Yeah,” Sasha agreed, moving to stand beside her. “It just doesn’t seem fair.”

Sasha moved to kneel beside Abraham’s grave and pluck the grass from the rocks, tossing them to the side before she stood back beside Anna. She patted Anna on the shoulder, gave a light squeeze, and went to leave.

“You don’t have to go, I can—”

“No,” Sasha said, stopping at the corner and shaking her head; and then she was gone.

Anna looked back at the graves, twisting her stick in her hands. She didn’t know what she was supposed to say—if she was supposed to say anything at all.

Quietly, she sat cross legged on the ground and laid her stick down behind her, staring between the graves. The throbbing in her heart grew until she thought her chest was about to burst and tears flooded her vision. She tried to blink them away, only to have them fall down her cheeks.

She sucked in a shuddering breath and wiped at her face as the memories of Glenn and Abraham’s smiles filled her mind—and the sound of the bat cracking against their skulls. Her hands curled into fists and that familiar rage boiled up again.

She was angry. She wanted to be angry. But she knew it was only so she didn’t have to feel the pain. She had never been good at letting herself feel it.

_“But it’s okay to be vulnerable,” Glenn insisted._

_“If I let myself feel it, I may not come back.”_

Anna took a deep breath, steadying herself, forcing herself to dig beyond the anger. Her fingers twitched, but she leaned forward and pressed her hands into the hard dirt.

_“We’d pull you back.”_

This wasn’t about the anger anymore. It couldn’t be. Nothing was going to bring either of them back. This had to be about the people still standing.

_“Hey, as long as you’re still standing.”_

* * *

After gathering herself, Anna went in search of Sasha, finding her in the foyer of the house speaking with Emma.

“Hey,” Anna greeted as she approached.

“Hey,” the two women responded.

“I was just asking Emma how many people we have,” Sasha explained.

“Pretty much all of the adults here are ready to start training,” Emma said. “I was thinking, since there’s so many, we should split them into groups. Sasha can train one group while you train another, and then rotate.”

“That’s a good idea,” Anna nodded. “Since we don’t have any guns to speak of, Sasha, why don’t you focus on knife handling—get them comfortable with it. I’ll show them hand-to-hand.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Sasha agreed. “We can start today, as soon as everyone’s ready.”

“I can go gather them now,” Emma offered, already heading for the door.

The office doors swung open, and the three turned to see Gregory.

“Ladies,” he greeted. “Might I have a word with you for a moment?”

“What do you want, Gregory?” Sasha asked impatiently.

“It’s not about what I want. It’s about what I don’t want,” he said. “And what I don’t want is for my people to get mixed up in all this mess. You’re just gonna get them killed. They’re farmers, not fighters.”

Sasha shook her head, clearly ready to lay into Gregory, when Anna stepped forward.

“What was it you said?” Anna asked. “What’s outside of your purview is outside of your purview?”

Gregory hummed in response, raising his bushy eyebrows expectantly.

“Well, don’t look out the window,” she instructed, gesturing for Sasha and Emma to follow before she led the way outside.

* * *

Anna stood in front of her group, hands on her hips as she surveyed them. Gregory was right; they weren’t fighters. Their stances alone were sloppy and unalert—especially for being outside the walls.

The thought occurred to her that the last time she’d trained anyone in hand-to-hand combat was when she and Marley were in Woodbury. She wondered what had happened to Martinez. If he was still alive.

“Is this where the combat training is happening?”

She turned to see Paul approaching.

“It’s hard to find level ground on a hill,” Anna shrugged. “Hey, since you’re here; I want to start this lesson with a demonstration. Would you be up for helping me?”

“Uh, sure, I guess,” Paul said uneasily.

“Great, thanks,” Anna grinned before turning back to her students. “Alright. We’re going to be focusing on hand-to-hand combat. Knowing how to use a knife or gun is good, but you can’t always be certain that you’ll have them as options. Jesus has so graciously agreed to help me. We’re going to start with a demonstration of what I’m going to teach you today. Jesus?”

“Yeah?”

“Grab me,” she instructed.

After a moment, she felt his arms wrap around her, pinning her arms to her sides. She brushed aside the panic rising in her chest and stepped her left leg further out.

Quickly, she moved her right leg around so that it was positioned behind him, effectively changing the angle in which he held her. Before he could adjust, Anna leaned forward and grabbed him behind the knees, using her hips to help pull his legs out from under him and drop him to the ground.

She fell with him as he released her, and she let go of his legs the second he was on his back. Standing, she brushed her hair out of her face before offering her hand to him.

“Alright,” she said as he accepted her hand and she pulled him to his feet. “What he did was called a Rear Bear Hug. He pinned my arms to my sides, making it impossible for me to break his hold,” she explained. “We’ll show you one more time, slower, and then I want you to pair up and practice on each other.”

She nodded at Jesus and he wrapped his arms around her again.

“I step my left leg out further,” she narrated as she moved. “Then, bring my right leg around behind him. Lean forward and grab him at his knees. The goal isn’t to lift him off the ground, but to get his legs out from under him. Use your hips to help you by pivoting them forward,” she explained. “Let gravity do the rest.”

Their fall this time was much more controlled, and Anna rolled off of him.

“Pair up. I’ll walk around and help you,” she said as she dusted herself off.

As the men and women found their partners, Anna turned to Jesus.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Happy to help,” he said, clasping his hands in front of him. “You called me Jesus.”

Anna chuckled and shook her head.

“I meant thank you for bringing Daryl back,” she elaborated. “And you said your friends call you that.”

Jesus smiled and nodded.

* * *

After a long day of training, Anna returned to her and Daryl’s bedroom. She saw the light flickering from under the door and knew Daryl was already there. They had avoided each other for most of the day. Well, she had avoided him. Anna wasn’t sure she was ready to continue their conversation from earlier.

“Hey,” came a voice from behind her.

Anna turned to see Emma heading down the hall.

“I was just about to go look for you,” Emma said as she stopped in front of her door. “I’ve got something for you.”

“Um, okay,” Anna said, hesitant as she followed Emma into her bedroom.

Emma’s room was decorated much the same as Anna and Daryl’s, except for a few extra decorations that seemed out of place among the antiquity of the room.

“Here,” Emma said, pulling a small, black book from the short bookcase set beneath the window and holding it out to Anna. “I think you’d get more use out of it than I ever did.”

Anna accepted the book, first looking at the statue on the cover, then reading the title.

_The Art of War_. Sun Tzu. Translated by Thomas Cleary.

She turned the book over in her hands to read the back, spotting the first line of the summary, highlighted in an orangish text.

_Conflict is an inevitable part of life._

“Thank you. I’ll return it as soon as I’m done,” Anna assured.

“No, I want you to keep it,” Emma insisted.

“I still owe you for those books before,” Anna said.

“You don’t owe me anything,” Emma said shaking her head. “But I was wondering, would you teach me to hunt?”

“You want to learn to hunt?” Anna asked, raising a brow. “Why?”

“You and Daryl aren’t going to be here forever,” Emma shrugged. “It’d be nice to contribute a little more.”

“Maybe—if we have time,” Anna said. “I should be getting back. Thank you again for the book.”

“Right. Yeah—goodnight,” Emma said as Anna turned and left.

She shut the door behind her and hurried across the hall to shut herself inside her and Daryl’s room.

“Hey.”

Anna jumped, turning to see Daryl sitting on the edge of the bed, just like he’d been waiting for her.

“Hey,” she croaked out before clearing her throat. “Hi.”

Stiffly, she walked over to the water basin, keeping her back to him as she set her things down and took off her shirt to clean herself of the days sweat.

“You did it before?” Daryl suddenly asked. “Why?”

Anna winced.

“Yeah. It’s—” she shook her head. “It’s an unhealthy coping skill I just kind of picked up as a teenager. It used to be the only way I could keep my emotions under control, to stay calm. It got worse as everything else got worse.”

Daryl was quiet, and she wondered what he was thinking as she moved to the wardrobe to grab a night shirt.

“I was going to tell you. But then everything happened and you were taken,” she took a breath. “It just never seemed to be the right time.”

“Do you still do it?”

“No,” she said quickly. “I’ve been trying not to—it’s just hard. Harder since the farm.”

“You used to take medicine,” he said.

“That used to help. But I ran out,” she said. “I always kept a look out for more on runs, but—” she shook her head.

“What kind was it?” He asked.

“Zoloft was what I took. I’ve never been very lucky in finding more,” Anna shrugged.

“I’ll look for it.”

Anna turned to frown at him.

“You don’t have to do that,” she said. “I’m fine—I—”

“I do,” he said firmly.

Anna shifted on her feet for a moment before crossing the room and wrapping her arms around him.

“Thank you,” she muttered into his shoulder, hoping he understood how much he meant to her.


	17. Chapter Sixteen

Anna moved fluidly through the motions, shifting the stick in her hands as she struck her imaginary opponent. She had snuck out of Hilltop, finding a quiet place in the surrounding trees to train alone. But the sun was just starting to turn the sky a muted shade of blue, and she knew her time to herself would be over soon.

She settled her stick by her side and relaxed her stance before walking to a tree. She leaned her stick against it and sat down, her back pressed to the bark. Anna laid her head back and closed her eyes for a moment, listening to the sound of the woods and breathing in the morning air.

Opening her eyes, Anna raised her head and picked up the book that laid on the ground beside her. Flipping to the first page of the main text, she reviewed what she had read last night, taking the time to think about what was being said before scribbling her understanding in the margins and moving to the next statement.

_Consider your actions carefully before execution._

_Maintain advantage._

_Be willing and capable of adjusting as needed._

_Weather, terrain, leadership, and discipline must be determined._

On she went, until the sun was fully in the sky and it was time for her to return. She pushed herself to her feet and grabbed her stick when she caught movement in her peripheral.

Tensing, she dropped the book and readied herself for a fight, facing the new presence.

“Hey, sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you,” Jesus said quickly, holding his hands up in surrender.

“Damn it, Jesus,” Anna huffed, letting herself relax.

“Sorry. I saw you heading out here, and since it’s time for training, I figured I’d come get you. Thought maybe you lost track of time,” he explained as she scooped up her book.

“I was just about to head in,” she said, dusting off the cover. “Is everyone gathered?”

“They’re trickling in,” he said. “By the time we get back, they should be ready.”

Anna nodded, and the two started toward Hilltop.

“What were you doing out here, anyway?” Jesus asked.

“Training, reading,” Anna shrugged.

“ _The Art of War_ ,” Jesus mused. “Emma give it to you?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. I think you’d make the best use of it,” he said, smiling at her. “Emma’s good about giving the right books to the right people.”

“Maggie and Sasha would have done just as well with it,” Anna said.

“Maggie and Sasha don’t have the military training you do,” Jesus countered.

“I was only with the military for seven months _after_ the turn. Why does that make me the expert?” Anna huffed.

“Doesn’t basic training in the army only last three months?” Jesus asked.

“Two and a half,” Anna muttered.

“So, you’ve got more than double the training time,” he said. “Who were you with, anyway? Army? Marines?”

“A few different branches. National Guard, Army,” she listed. “Drill Sergeant was a Marine,” she admitted sheepishly.

Jesus gave a low whistle.

“I was low ranking, and was only ever used for patrols, until I was volunteered for a Search and Rescue,” she insisted.

She became very quiet, her mind rapidly going through everything that had happened on her first and only mission outside the base. She almost didn’t hear Jesus speaking.

“Well, of everyone here, you’re the one with the most military training. I’ve got my martial arts, but you’ve got actual training in the art of war,” he said, gesturing to the book in her hands.

Anna glanced down at the book and back at him.

“I’m not some General,” Anna said as they walked around Hilltop to the clearing that they had been using for training. “Don’t mistake me for one.”

Jesus smiled at her, gesturing for her to take the lead as they approached the gathered group.

“Do you have your knives on you?” Anna asked.

“Yeah,” Jesus said, showing her the knives strapped to his hips.

“Good. We’re going to show them disarming today, after a review of yesterday,” she explained as she headed for the group.

* * *

Anna walked with Jesus to the house, conversing about the sessions today. The group had done alright, but they needed a lot of practice. Tomorrow would have to be another lesson on disarming.

But she was distracted. The thought of what she had read today lingered in her mind.

_Weather, terrain, leadership, and discipline must be determined._

Terrain in particular caught her attention.

“Jesus,” she said, interrupting whatever it was he was saying. “You’ve been to the Sanctuary. Do you think you’d be able to draw me a map of it?”

“Why do you want a map?” He asked as they stopped on the front steps of the porch.

“I’d like to explore all possible avenues.”

“Yeah, I can make you a map,” he assured, jogging the rest of the way up the stairs and heading inside just as Emma was coming out.

"Emma,” Anna called. “I was actually about to start looking for you. Do you have a second?”

“Of course. What’s up?” Emma asked, stepping down the rest of the steps.

“I need a list of everyone fighting with us,” Anna said. “Names and profiles on them, if you have it.”

“I don’t have profiles on everyone yet, but I can get you the names,” Emma said. “May I ask what for?”

“I just want to organize our forces—however limited it is,” Anna said, starting up the steps.

“If you need help, let me know,” Emma said. “I’ll get that list for you.”

“Thank you,” Anna said, before turning away to head to her room, only to pause and look back. “One more thing.”

Emma stopped mid-stride and turned to her expectantly.

“How often do the Saviors come here?” Anna asked.

“Once a month for pick up. They’ve already been here this month, so don’t worry,” Emma assured.

“Alright,” Anna nodded. “Thanks.”

With that, the two women went their separate ways.

* * *

At the end of the day, Maggie deemed it necessary to have a small dinner party to unwind. Jesus borrowed a grill from one of his neighbors and set it up. The smell of fresh venison filled the air as they dished up their plates.

Anna cast a worried glance over her shoulder at Daryl sitting alone on a picnic table, busy making bolts for his crossbow.

“Daryl didn’t have to go hunting, but I’m sure glad he did,” Emma said as they walked together back inside the trailer.

“I’m still upset he went without me—or at all,” Anna huffed as the two sat down at the table. “But he can’t be locked in here all the time.”

Emma nodded in agreement, pulling apart her meat and popping a piece in her mouth. She hummed her enjoyment as she chewed. Anna gave a small smile. Everyone gathered inside the trailer, conversing and laughing as they ate until their plates were empty and their bellies were full. Everyone except Daryl.

Frowning, Anna glanced out the door and saw the shadowy figure of Daryl in the pitch darkness still sitting by himself on the picnic table. Pushing herself to her feet, Anna made to go check on him when Maggie placed a hand on her shoulder.

“I’ll go. Stay,” Maggie instructed.

Anna pursed her lips but allowed Maggie to gently push her back into her seat. Maggie walked outside with a plate.

“Is he alright?” Enid asked, pulling Anna’s attention back to the room.

Anna tensed at the way everyone looked to her, awaiting her response. Nervously, she cleared her throat and straightened in her seat.

“He just doesn’t like being crowded,” Anna assured.

Maggie stepped back inside at that moment.

“How is training going, Anna? Jesus?” Maggie asked, shifting the attention and atmosphere of the room.

Anna felt herself relax as Jesus chuckled where he stood leaning against the counter, shaking his head, arms crossed.

“Yesterday, Anna asked me to help her demonstrate, neglecting to tell me exactly what she was going to do,” he explained, a teasing note to his voice.

“What did she do?” Sasha asked.

“She knocked him on his ass,” Enid laughed. “Bertie told me.”

“It’s not like we were fighting,” Anna defended. “I was just showing a way to get out of a hold.”

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Anna fight without a gun,” Sasha said.

“She’s got a mean right hook,” Maggie insisted.

Anna remembered that day on the farm when Andrea had shot Daryl. It was the first time Anna had ever broken someone’s nose. Her knuckles had ached and Andrea sported some serious bruising for quite a while. All because of Daryl.

As the others continued laughing and talking, Anna got to her feet once again.

“I think I’m gonna turn in,” she announced, heading to grab her stick from where it rested against the couch.

“Already?” Emma asked.

“Yeah,” Anna nodded. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow. Jesus—interested in helping me more tomorrow?”

“Sure, but maybe give a little more warning of what you’re gonna do next time?” Jesus laughed.

Anna rolled her eyes with a smile and exited the trailer, the laughter of the others fading as she approached Daryl, who was picking at his food.

“Hey,” she greeted softly.

“Hey,” he muttered.

Anna pressed her lips together, her brow creasing in worry.

“Let’s head in,” she said, gesturing for him to come with her.

Daryl set his plate down and jumped off the table. He gathered his newly made bolts and they started toward the house in silence.

Anna reached out and brushed the back of her hand against his. He reciprocated the touch as they entered the dark house.

* * *

Anna scanned the piece of paper, running her finger around the pencil marks that represented a large building.

“It’s a tower,” Jesus explained from beside her. “Definitely a factory. They’ve got walkers around the front, with a path cut through for them to drive out.”

She considered the similarities between the Sanctuary and Fort Benning. Walkers prevented any approach by foot—for the most part—but were primarily for effect. The real problem lied in the tower. They had visual in all direction for quite the distance. It was thankfully broken up by the surrounding buildings, and that would be their only hope of getting anywhere near the factory.

“What do you plan on doing with this?” Jesus asked, as he had the day before.

“I’m not sure yet,” Anna muttered, trying to visualize the setting.

“Well, when you decide, let me and Maggie know. We can help,” he said.

Anna hummed her agreement, the sound of the front gates creaking open pulling her attention away. Rosita came walking through, a large pack on her back and her hat pulled low over her face as she made a beeline for Anna and Jesus.

“Where’s Sasha?” She asked the moment she was close enough for them to hear her without yelling.

“She’s back behind the house,” Anna said, cocking a brow at her.

Rosita turned on her heel and started in that direction.

“Hello to you, too,” Anna called, shaking her head as Rosita disappeared around the corner.

“I’m going to go find Maggie,” Jesus announced, starting toward his trailer.

Anna watched him leave, passing Emma as she approached with another paper in her hands.

“Hello,” Emma said cheerfully. “I’ve got that list for you.”

“Thank you,” Anna said, accepting the offered paper.

She read over the two columns of names, trying to put faces to the names. She recognized most of them, and she began organizing them in her head.

“How do you plan on organizing them?” Emma asked.

“Well, we aren’t an army,” Anna shrugged, folding the list into the map and tucking both into her pocket. “But we need some sort of structure.”

“Makes sense,” Emma nodded. “From what I’ve seen, the Saviors are extremely organized.”

“Alright, I’m going to put these up and then head to the clearing for today’s training,” she explained, going up the porch.

“Okay.”

Anna made her way inside and up the stairs, pursing her lips at the thought of Emma. She was a nice person. Genuine. Someone Anna could see herself being friends with. But she couldn’t help but hold her at a distance.

It was fear, really, of getting close to someone again and risking the pain that would inevitably come. She was in too deep with the others to walk away, but she could prevent anything from forming between her and Emma. With Jesus, it was easy to circumvent attachment when his focus was on Maggie. But Emma was something different.

What Anna couldn’t figure out, however, was whether it was a fear that Emma would become another Glenn, or another Marley.

Anna entered her room and found _The Art of War_ on the writing desk. She tucked the papers within the cover and tossed it back down before reaching for her stick that she had left leaning against the wall beside the desk.

A bell rang out and she tensed. Forgetting the stick for the moment, she crossed the room to the window and pushed the curtains aside to see the gates opening and trucks pulling through.

She heard footsteps bounding rapidly against the floor, and she whirled around to see Emma rushing into the room.

“It’s the Saviors,” Emma said breathlessly. “Hide.”

“The others—” Anna started, panic rising in her chest.

_I can’t let them find Daryl._

“I saw Enid leading Maggie and Daryl around back,” Emma assured, ushering Anna toward the wardrobe.

She threw the doors open and moved the few clothes aside. Anna stepped in and Emma shut the doors. Anna could just barely hear the front door open and Simon’s voice carry up the stairs.

Through the crack between the doors, Anna saw Emma hurry out of the room. She pressed herself into the back of the wardrobe and sighed. She didn’t know how long the Saviors would be here, or why they were here, but she was stuck. She hoped the others had found suitable hiding places.

A few minutes ticked by and she heard the front door slam shut. She leaned forward to peer through the doors again. She began to gently push the left door open when she saw movement.

The breath left her at the sight of Isaac wandering into her and Daryl’s room, passively looking around.

Her skin tingled and her fingers twitched and she pressed herself into the corner, begging the darkness to swallow her as he drew closer and closer to the wardrobe. He paused at the writing desk, looking at the book and the papers scattered atop it before his gaze turned to something beside the desk.

_Fuck,_ she thought bitterly, realizing she’d left her stick out in the open.

Isaac continued past the stick, languidly strolling toward the wardrobe as he whistled a soft tune.

Her heart was pounding in her head and her ears rang as he reached for the little doorknob of the wardrobe. She felt her stomach churn and she covered her mouth to mute the sound of her dry heaving. Her eyes were wide in abject horror as she stared at his face and he started to open the door.

“There you are!”

He turned away, letting the door fall back into place as Emma entered the room.

“We’ve got the fruits and vegetables gathered in front of the house,” Emma explained, her voice carefully even. “Simon wants you to look them over before they’re loaded up.”

“He sure is bossy, isn’t he?” Isaac said good-naturedly. “Thanks, Emma.”

Without another word, he strolled out of the room. Emma stood still until they heard the front door open and close.

Anna launched herself from the wardrobe, her chest heaving as she nearly collapsed on the floor.

“Are you okay?” Emma asked as she went to Anna, her hands hovering as if unsure of what to do.

She shook her head, gasping for air as she straightened and wiped at the tears running down her cheeks.

“He almost found me,” she breathed. “Isaac, he—” she stopped herself.

“So, you’ve met him already?” Emma asked, her hands dropping to her sides.

“We go back,” Anna muttered, wrapping her arms around herself as she turned away from Emma.

“You’re scared of him,” Emma said suddenly. “He—he hurt you, didn’t he?”

Anna chewed on the inside of her cheek. It felt like there was acid in her chest.

“He can’t hurt you anymore, though,” Emma assured, taking a step toward her.

“He can,” Anna said quietly. “And I can’t stop him.”

“Yes, you can,” Emma insisted. “You’re strong—”

“No, I’m not,” Anna snapped, whirling around to face Emma. “I don’t know what gave you that impression, but you’re wrong. I’m weak. I couldn’t stop him before and I can’t stop him now. I’d rather hide in a fucking closet like a scared little girl. I’d rather abandon my friends and hide in the fucking woods than face him,” she hissed, trying to keep her voice low. “I thought he died once before, but here he is. Too much of an asshole to just fucking die.”

Anna and Emma stared at each other for a moment, listening to the sounds of the trucks outside roaring to life.

“You’re not weak, Anna,” Emma finally said.

Emma brushed her short hair off her forehead and sighed.

“You said you’d rather abandon your friends and hide, but you didn’t,” she said. “You’re here getting ready to fight. You’re scared, sure, but you’re still here. You’re human. And so is he.”

* * *

After managing to calm down, Anna and Emma peered out the window to watch the Saviors. Anna’s skin crawled as she watched Isaac look over the fruits and vegetables with that same appraising look he’d always given her.

“I never liked him,” Emma said as Isaac ordered for the produce to be loaded up. “He seems nice enough, but there was always something about him that just didn’t sit right with me.”

Anna looked at Emma for a moment.

“He’s very good at pretending,” Anna said as she looked back at Isaac.

“Is that Harlan?”

Two Saviors led the doctor from the medical trailer to the trucks they had arrived in. Gregory stood off to the side, hands in his pockets as Harlan was herded into the back of one of the pick-up trucks. She recognized Simon as he climbed into the passenger seat and slammed the door shut.

The convoy started down the hill. Anna found Isaac sitting in the back of the last truck, a satisfied smirk on his face as he disappeared beyond the wall.

* * *

* * *

“Load ‘em up,” Isaac called, gesturing to a few nearby Saviors.

They started taking the baskets and boxes of produce and putting them in the back of the black moving truck as the Hilltoppers gathered. He glanced at Gregory, standing idly by as Simon loaded up their doctor. He rolled his eyes. He’d never had any patience for the bumbling, stuttering idiot. But he knew from experience that it was easier to control a coward.

As the last of the produce was loaded, Isaac climbed into the back of the truck, a flash of red catching his eye.

He looked up at Barrington House, spotting Emma in one of the windows, her eyes glued to the doctor. Beside her… Isaac’s lips pulled into a smirk.

_Someone’s being a bad girl,_ he thought. _Don’t worry, Annie. I won’t tell._


	18. Chapter Seventeen

Once they were sure the Saviors were gone, Anna and Emma made their way outside just as Maggie, Enid, and Daryl came around the house.

“Are you guys alright?” Anna asked the second she saw them.

“Yeah. You?” Maggie asked.

“I’m fine,” Anna assured.

Maggie turned her attention to Enid, checking the teen over for injury and asking about a knife. Anna didn’t miss the look Daryl gave her. She knew that her face was still flushed and her eyes were puffy.

“You alright?” Daryl asked quietly as he stepped closer to her.

"Isaac was here,” she said. “He almost found me. Emma—” She glanced back at the woman, her words still lingering in her mind. “Emma helped me.”

Daryl nodded, wrapping his arm around Anna’s shoulders. She coiled her arms around his waist, pressing her face into his shoulder, taking comfort in the hug.

“Where’s Sasha?” Maggie asked.

“And Rosita?” Anna added, looking around for the two women.

“Rosita was here?” Maggie asked. “Why?”

“She was looking for Sasha,” Emma explained.

“They left,” Enid said.

“Left?” Daryl asked.

“They’re planning on taking out Negan,” Jesus sighed.

“What?” Maggie and Anna both snapped.

“And it didn’t occur to you to, maybe—I don’t know—stop them?” Anna went on, pulling away from Daryl. “Disregarding the fact that this could give away our advantage if they get caught, it’s suicide. How long ago did they leave? We have to go after them before they get themselves killed.”

“They’ll be long gone by now,” Jesus said, crossing his arms. “And no one was going to stop them, anyway. They would have found a way to go. And is it such a bad thing? What if they succeed?”

“What if they die?” Anna hissed. “Is that something you’re willing to risk?”

“No,” Jesus said, clenching his jaw. “But they were.”

* * *

Maggie set everyone to work putting Hilltop back together. She took Enid, Emma, and Anna to check on their food stores to ensure they had enough to hold them over for a while.

“We should be fine, but I think we should set some aside in case the Saviors decide what we gave them today wasn’t enough,” Emma suggested. “They’ve done that before.”

“Good idea,” Maggie agreed.

Enid and Emma started pulling some baskets as Maggie stepped over to Anna.

“We haven’t really gotten the chance to talk much,” Maggie said.

“No, we haven’t,” Anna said.

“So, let’s talk,” Maggie said, gesturing for Anna to step outside.

They made their way out of the cellar and Anna went to lean against the wall, wrapping her arms around herself. Neither of them said anything for a while. Where did they even start?

“I talked to Daryl today,” Maggie started. “He thinks it’s his fault—what happened.”

“He does,” Anna said, nodding. “It wasn’t.”

“It wasn’t,” Maggie agreed. “But it made me realize somethin’.”

“What’s that?”

“I forgot about you.”

Anna pressed her lips together, looking to the ground as she dug the toe of her boot into the dirt.

“It’s alright,” Anna said, looking up at Maggie. “He was your husband. You loved him. Still love him.”

“You loved him, too,” Maggie countered. “We should have been grieving together.”

“You needed to be alone. It’s okay.”

Maggie moved to lean against the wall beside Anna, her hand lingering on her stomach. They were quiet for a moment, until Anna finally spoke up.

“I miss him,” she said.

“I do, too.”

* * *

Night had fallen by the time they had gotten Hilltop back in order and everyone had more or less calmed down about Dr. Carson’s kidnapping. Everyone retired to their homes and rooms, settling in for the night. Anna and Daryl were just preparing themselves for bed.

“I don’t know what we’re going to do without Harlan,” Anna said as she pulled the blankets back before sitting down at the edge of the bed. “Maggie needs a doctor.”

“We’ll figure somethin’ out,” Daryl replied gruffly.

“We will, but,” Anna huffed, pulling off her boots. “What if something happens again before we do?”

“Nothin’ is gonna happen,” he said.

_You don’t know that_ , Anna wanted to say, but she figured they could go back and forth all night. So, they were quiet for some time as they pulled the covers over them.

Deciding she was far too worried about Maggie, Sasha, and Rosita to sleep, Anna propped herself up against the headboard and some pillows, her bedside lantern still flickering as Daryl turned his out. She picked up _The Art of War_. She reviewed the previous pages and continued reading as Daryl found a comfortable position on his back.

“Should’a gone with ‘em.”

Anna glanced at him, seeing him irritably staring at the ceiling.

"Sasha and Rosita. I should’a gone with ‘em,” he repeated.

“They shouldn’t have gone at all,” Anna said, setting her book in her lap to give him her full attention.

“Why not?” Daryl asked harshly.

Anna sighed. She hated when he got worked up, but she didn’t blame him. Not after everything.

“Maybe they succeed. Maybe they kill Negan. Maybe they even get out of there alive after. What then? Would the Saviors surrender? Or would someone else be in charge, and we lose our surprise advantage? Or maybe, they fail. They’re killed—or worse, captured—we still lose our advantage,” she reasoned.

“They wouldn’t sell us out,” Daryl snapped.

“That’s not what I’m saying,” Anna said patiently. “If the Saviors capture them, Negan is going to think something is up and act on it.” And worse, they’d be held by the Saviors.

Daryl’s lip twitched, and he worked his jaw as he glared at the ceiling. He opened his mouth to say something more when they heard the distant sound of the front gates opening.

They jumped to their feet. Anna rushed to the window as Daryl grabbed his crossbow.

“Is it the Saviors?” He asked.

“Kal would have rung the alarm,” Anna said, shaking her head as she peered through the window into the dark yard.

Walking through the gates was a small crowd of people led by Rick.

“It’s Rick,” Anna said, confused.

Anna and Daryl threw their boots on and left their room at the same time as Emma. They headed outside as Rick and the others were walking up the path. Maggie and Jesus appeared then.

"Rick?” Maggie asked, hugging him and then Michonne, Carl, and Jessie. “What are you doin’ here? Is everything alright?”

“We’ve got a lead on some guns,” Rick said, gesturing to Tara. “But we’re gonna need a little more help in getting’ them.”

“We’re in,” Daryl said quickly, pulling Rick’s attention to him and Anna.

“What are you two doin’ here? You’re supposed to be in the Kingdom,” Rick chastised.

“It didn’t pan out,” Anna shrugged.

Rick nodded, seeming to understand.

“Where’s Sasha? And Rosita—I thought she’d be here,” Jessie asked.

“Yeah, about that,” Anna huffed.

“Rosita was here,” Jesus explained. “She and Sasha took off to kill Negan.”

“What?” Rick snapped.

“They didn’t want to wait,” Jesus said, brushing off the anger rolling off Rick. “I couldn’t convince them to stay.”

“He’s right,” Anna said, stepping forward, and Jesus shot her a confused look. “No one was going to stop them. So, what’s this lead on guns?”

Michonne and Tara began to fill them in on meeting a new community and the deal they had made. But Anna was only half listening.

“Rick, can I talk to you?” Anna asked, pulling him aside.

“Sure, what’s goin’ on?” He asked, still clearly frustrated as they moved out of earshot of the others.

“Do you remember what I told you—about after the farm?” She asked, and he visibly tensed.

“Yes,” he said carefully. “You said they were all dead—that Marley and her group killed them.”

“The one who gave me this,” she began, tapping the scar that ran from her right temple to the top of her right cheek. “His name is Isaac. I thought he was dead, but he’s here, now, with the Saviors.”

“He’s alive?” Rick asked, as if he couldn’t believe it. “How?”

“I don’t know,” Anna said, shaking her head. “But he was there that night with Negan, he came to Alexandria, and he was here today.”

Rick stared at the ground, as if trying to process the new information. He looked up at her.

“Are you okay?” He finally asked. “Does—does Daryl—Jessie. Do they know?”

“They know,” Anna said, nodding.

Rick shook his head, scratching at the bridge of his nose.

“We’ll take care of him,” he said, setting his jaw. “We will.”

“We will,” Anna agreed firmly.

* * *

They loaded up in the trucks and RV, leaving for the mission immediately after Jesus, Enid, Emma, Daryl, and Anna agreed to join them. Anna sat with Tara, Rick, and Michonne at the table of the RV, bent over a piece of paper as Tara drew out what she remembered of the landscape.

“I’m not an artist,” Tara said apologetically. “They’ve got a watch point here— I’m sure there are more. The guns are kept here.”

“We can take out the watch point we know about,” Rick assured.

“Put a sniper up there,” Anna agreed.

It was a good thing Rick and Michonne had found some guns, otherwise this would be far more difficult.

“Push them this way,” Anna said, gesturing with her hand. “We can corner them.”

“We don’t have to hurt anyone,” Tara insisted, and Rick and Anna looked up at her. “What if we can get them to join us?”

“You said they were scared of the Saviors,” Rick said. “What makes you think they’ll help us?”

“They lost just as much as us—if not more. They’re hurt, and they’re angry, too. They’ll join us,” Tara said, so sure of herself.

Anna glanced at Rick.

“She could talk to them, get them to work with us,” Anna said. “Maybe she sneaks in so we don’t give away our position, and if it doesn’t work, we keep going with the plan.”

“What if they kill her?” Rick countered.

“Take one of them hostage?” Anna suggested. “We don’t have a lot of bullets. We need to do this clean. If Tara can convince them to help us, we don’t have to risk lives or waste bullets”

“But we’d be risking Tara’s life,” Rick countered. “Didn’t they try to kill you?”

“Yeah,” Tara huffed.

Anna bit her cheek. Rick was right, and she didn’t want to send Tara to her death.

“It’s not up to you if I risk my life or not.”

Rick and Anna looked to Tara.

“They’ll help us. I know they will,” Tara insisted.

Rick sighed.

“Alright,” he finally relented. “But we don’t have a lot of time.”

“Right,” Anna agreed. “With Sasha and Rosita going kamikaze, we’ve got to get in and get out.”

“Give me as much time as you can,” Tara said.

The three of them continued to pore over the map Tara had drawn, plotting out their course of action and trying to find the best options that would give Tara the time she needed. Anna drew out little X’s and O’s to indicate where people would be best positioned until they were all in agreement.

Satisfied with their work, Anna stood from the table and moved to sit in the passenger seat beside her brother.

“How’s it going Sun Tzu?” Jessie asked teasingly.

Anna cocked a brow at him before reaching into her satchel that she had draped over the back of the passenger seat. She pulled out the little book Emma had given her and displayed it to him with a grin.

“Pretty good,” she said as he glanced at the title.

“Where’d you get that?” Jessie asked in surprise.

“Emma gave it to me,” Anna said, tucking the book back in her satchel.

“She your new buddy?” He laughed.

Anna stayed silent, a pensive look on her face, and his laughter died out.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly.

"It’s okay,” Anna assured. “I just… it feels almost too soon, you know?”

“Yeah.”

Anna shook her head, pulling out a notebook and pencil from her satchel. She flipped it open to a blank page and began writing down the names of everyone who had come from Alexandria. She began pairing people off on paper, deciding who went best together for the mission and where, based on the positions they had marked, everyone would be best placed.

“Listen,” Jessie started, calling her attention away from her work. “You knew him better than I did, but—I don’t think Glenn would want you to shut yourself off from others.”

Anna tapped her pencil against the page, pursing her lips.

“He wouldn’t,” she agreed.

“So, don’t.”

* * *

Tara led them across a river and to the outer boundaries of Oceanside—as she had dubbed it. They spent an hour getting their supplies across the river and spent another hour getting into the groups Anna had set and into position. The sun was creeping higher in the sky by the time they were ready to make their first move.

Rick went with Michonne to find a good vantage point while Anna went through the plan with the others and Daryl and Jesus laid the explosives.

“We get them out of hiding, we bring them here. We don’t want to spend the bullets on a needless fight, so focus on control,” she explained, holding her stick as they stood in the small clearing.

Once everyone understood their jobs, Anna sent them to their positions. Jessie walked up to her then.

“Why’d you bring the stick when you’ve got this?” He asked, gesturing to the handgun on her hip.

“Because we aren’t here to hurt these people,” she said. “We need to save our bullets for the Saviors.”

“And if they fight back?” Jessie countered.

“I’ve got rifle holders where they need to be. And, if it’s absolutely necessary, I’ve got the handgun,” Anna said.

“But are you willing to do what’s necessary to get this done?” Jessie asked. “Or did Morgan finally get to you?”

Anna ground her teeth, glaring at her brother.

“We’re going to get these guns. We’re going to beat the Saviors,” she said evenly as she looked away from him. “Whatever it takes.”

She watched as Daryl and Jesus met up with Aaron and Eric before heading for their positions. Rick approached her and Jessie.

“Tara is about to head in,” Rick informed, glancing at his watch. “She’s got fifteen minutes to convince Natania. I wish we could’ve given her more time.”

“You think she can do it?” Jessie asked.

“I think we have to try,” Anna said. “Let’s get ready.”

Jessie nodded, heading off to meet up with his group. Rick looked at his watch again.

“Alright,” he said. “Clock starts now.”

They waited quietly as Rick looked at his watch every so often. Anna could tell he was worried, and so was she. But Jesus’s comment about Rosita and Sasha had stuck with her. They were willing to risk everything to kill Negan. Tara was willing to risk dying if it meant getting Oceanside to help them. She could hardly say it was any different from Anna taking a chance and going to Fort Benning with Marley. She just hoped they were more successful than her.

“She’ll be alright,” Rick said, breaking the quiet.

“She will be,” Anna agreed, crouching to pick at the dead leaves on the ground.

“So, what are you thinkin’ so hard about?” He asked after a moment.

Anna frowned at him.

“I’ve known you long enough to recognize that look,” he said, a teasing note to his voice.

He glanced at his watch again.

“How much longer?” She asked.

“Six minutes. You didn’t answer my question.”

“It was nothing. Just—” she huffed. “What are we all willing to risk for this?” Anna asked.

“You havin’ second thoughts?” Rick cocked a brow at her.

“Negan beat my best friend to death, did who-knows-what to Daryl, terrorized our people—” she listed off when Abraham’s voice entered her head. “There’s not a damn thing I wouldn’t do to keep my family safe. So, no. I’m not having second thoughts.”

She could practically hear his watch ticking by.

“Time?”

“Three minutes.”

Anna clenched her jaw, standing as she wiped her hands on her jeans. Tara hadn’t given the signal. She took a step back so that she was in full view of those positioned to set off the explosives. Everyone she could see tensed at her movement, readying their weapons.

“Two minutes,” Rick said, his eyes now glued to his watch.

She hoped Tara was all right.

“One minute.”

Anna raised her hand, ready to give the signal to the others. That one minute seemed to stretch on and on. She wished they could give Tara more time.

Rick looked up at Anna, giving a single nod, and she brought her hand down. A few seconds passed before a jarring _BOOM_ echoed through the air, shaking the ground beneath their feet. They could hear screams nearby as Rick and Anna started to their positions.


	19. Chapter Eighteen

Rick led the way to the clearing where they could see a large group of what must have been the Oceansiders surrounded by the three groups Anna had positioned.

“Everybody stay calm,” Jessie said, aiming a rifle at the ground as the women and children got to their knees, hands raised in surrender.

“We don’t want anyone to get hurt,” Carl added.

“Stay down and listen to what we say,” Gabriel said. “We want this to go as simply and as peacefully as possible. All of you can make it that way.”

Anna tapped her stick against the ground as she and Rick stopped in front of the hostages. She felt her stomach twist at the situation, but she reminded herself that they weren’t here to hurt anyone.

“Get down over there.”

Anna looked to her left to see Daryl and Jesus leading two women forward, their hands bound, followed by Aaron and Eric.

“Keep quiet,” Daryl ordered as the women got to the ground with the others.

“Now, we made a lot of noise,” Rick started. “We want to wrap this up quick so you can send people to redirect anything coming this way. Tara said your forests are relatively clear, so we won’t take any chances. No one needs to get hurt. This is just about what you have, what we need.”

“Nobody’s taking anything.”

They turned to see Tara being pushed through the brush, a gun held to her head by an older woman. They were followed by a teen with long dark hair who seemed very apprehensive about what was happening.

“You need to let everyone go and leave right now. Just walk away, or this one dies,” the woman said, pulling back the hammer of her gun.

“Yeah, we’ll leave you alone,” Rick assured. “But we’re taking your weapons with us. That’s not gonna change. It’s Natania, right?”

Natania glared at them over Tara’s shoulder, and Anna knew Michonne didn’t have a clean shot. None of them did.

“Put the gun down, and let’s talk about what we can change,” Rick said evenly.

“No. Leave,” Natania snapped. “Right now.”

“Michonne, don’t!” Tara called.

“We just want to be left alone,” Natania went on.

“Yeah, we’ll leave you alone. Just let go of her. Now. Or we’ll kill you. None of us want that,” Rick said.

“They want us to fight the Saviors,” the teen, Cyndie, announced to the others.

“We tried that. We lost,” Natania said, glaring at the girl. “Too much. We’re not going to lose anymore—not our guns, not our safety, not after everything we’ve done to get here.”

“We’re gonna win—with your guns, with or without your help,” Tara declared.

“Natania, put the gun down,” Rick said again.

“You kill me, and you die,” Tara warned. “And my people take the guns and nothing changes.”

“Maybe we should try,” one of the women said, garnering a hushed chatter among the crowd.

“Grandma, stop. It’s over,” Cyndie pleaded. “Just talk to them, okay?”

“It’s not over!” Natania cried. “They’ve forgotten. You’ve all forgotten. Some of you actually want to fight them? After everything? We can lose our guns, but us leaving this place to fight? After everything? I have to remind you! Yes. I am going to do this, and then I'm going to die. But it's that important.”

Anna tensed, her hand going to the gun at her hip.

“This is your life, all of you. Remember what it looks like. Remember what they did to us!” Natania shouted. “You need to see this. Open your eyes!”

“Rick! Walkers!” Michonne called.

Anna looked to the left, spotting the walkers shambling through the trees when she heard a hard thud. She looked back to Natania to see that the woman was now on the ground, her granddaughter grabbing the gun.

“Everybody up,” Rick commanded. “Get the children behind us. They’re coming.”

He cut the two bound women free, handing his knife to the short haired woman, and everyone got into formation in front of the children.

“First shift, join them on the line. Knives out. Dead only,” the short haired woman said. “Dead only!”

“Everyone, shots within ten feet of the line. That’s it,” Rick said.

Anna pulled her gun and the walkers drew closer.

“Now!”

The rapid crack of gunfire filled the air as they dropped the walkers, one by one. Whatever walkers got too close, those with knives took them out.

As one walker neared, she switched on the safety of her gun and tucked it into its holster before stepping forward and whipping her stick upwards into the corpse’s chin, knocking it backwards onto the ground. She drove the end of her stick into its left eye and pulled back in time to dispatch another walker in much the same manner.

Once the threat had been eradicated, the gunfire died out, and the two groups turned to each other. The short haired woman held Rick’s knife out to him. He accepted it and offered his hand. She hesitated a moment, but took it.

“No,” Natania said suddenly, starting back to the village on obviously unsteady legs. “We’re not fighting them with you. So, take your damn guns and go.”

* * *

Anna and Emma sat in the back of the moving truck with the guns slowly piling up around them. Tobin set a plastic bin of rifles down in front of Anna, nodding at the two women before heading back for more.

“M16. Four,” Anna said, moving the bin of rifles aside as Emma scribbled in Anna’s notebook.

She pulled a wicker basket full of handguns toward her.

“Glock .47.”

“I’m glad we didn’t have to use anymore force than we did,” Emma said. “I just wish they would fight with us.”

“Yeah,” Anna agreed. “Beretta M9.”

“These people have lost so much—it almost seems wrong to take their guns, too,” Emma muttered.

“We need these guns to fight. Even for the people who are too scared to do it themselves,” Anna said. “G2c 9mm Luger. Besides, we’re going to give these back.”

“We can’t replace the bullets, though,” Emma pointed out.

“Maybe we can. Eugene—” she paused. Eugene was gone. “He gave my brother a recipe to make bullets,” she finished, shaking her head. “Winchester. 380 Auto. Three.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Anna nodded.

“You did a good job here, by the way.”

“I didn’t do much,” Anna shrugged, listing off another rifle.

“You did. You made a good plan and put us where we needed to be,” Emma insisted.

“I got lucky,” Anna said, shaking her head. “Glenn was the one who came up with the plans.”

The pain in her chest at the mention of Glenn only throbbed for a few minutes before it faded.

“He was your friend.”

Anna nodded.

“I’m sorry,” Emma said quietly.

“We all lost something that night,” Anna said, brushing a stray tear away. “But beating the Saviors isn’t going to bring anyone back. This is about who’s still here—how we can protect the people we love and give them better lives.”

Emma nodded in agreement, and Anna went back to calling out the guns as Emma recorded them in the book. Jesus set a basket of rifles down. On top was a Sako 85, bolt-action hunting rifle.

“Do you still want to learn to hunt?” She asked, picking the rifle off the pile and listing it off.

“Uh, yeah,” Emma said. “Why?”

“When we have the time, I’ll teach you,” Anna said. “Probably when this is all over.”

“Thank you,” Emma said with a small grin.

* * *

On the way back to Alexandria with the guns, Daryl allowed Anna to drive the motorcycle, giving her a quick lesson on how to control it. She nearly fell three times when he wasn’t behind her, but she soon got the hang of the balance.

By the time they were pulling up to the front gates, her hands were numb from the vibration of the handlebars.

The gate creaked, the headlights from the bike and the RV illuminating Rosita as she pushed the gate open. They maneuvered between the vehicles and into Alexandria, and Rosita closed the gate behind them.

Anna jumped off the motorcycle, turning it off as Daryl threw the kickstand down and started toward Rosita.

“Hey, are you okay?” Enid asked as she and the others approached.

“Where’s Sasha?” Jesus asked.

Rosita glared at them from under her hat.

“There’s someone here,” she said, heading past them.

Anna furrowed her brow but followed. Rick made his way up to walk beside Rosita, quietly questioning her about what happened. Anna bit her tongue, worry picking up in her chest. Rosita led them to and inside the red-brick house where she and Morgan had built the prison cell. The cell door creaked open, and Rosita stepped aside.

A dark figure moved from where it sat in the shadow, stepping into the light that filtered through the high window.

It took a moment for Anna to register the face she was seeing. Blond hair, blue eyes—one nestled in knotted, burned flesh—and a vest that didn’t belong to him.

Daryl rushed forward, shoving Anna out of the way. She caught herself on the wall as Rick held him back.

“Whoa! Slow down,” Rick ordered, holding Daryl still.

“He says he wants to help us,” Rosita said.

Anna reached forward and set her hand on Daryl’s shoulder, pulling him toward her. He stilled, but his body was tense as Rick turned to Dwight.

“That true?” Rick asked. “You want to help?”

“I do,” Dwight said firmly.

Rick glanced back at them, his eyes landing on Daryl for a moment before facing Dwight again.

“Okay,” he said, pulling out his Colt Python and pulling back the hammer as he aimed it in Dwight’s face. “Get on your knees.”

Dwight didn’t blink at the barrel of Rick’s gun following him as he dropped to his knees, his eyes solely on Daryl. This was a man who was used to having guns in his face.

“Look at me,” Rick ordered, and he did. “Why?”

“‘Cause I want it stopped,” Dwight said. “I want Negan dead.”

“So, why don’t you kill him?” Rick asked.

“Can’t just be me. They’re all Negan,” Dwight explained.

“That girl you murdered; she had a name.” Tara said, hovering over him. “Her name was Denise, and she was a doctor. And she helped people.”

Dwight looked at her, and Anna could see he was struggling with what he was about to say.

“I wasn’t aiming for her.”

Daryl rushed forward again, ripping his shoulder out of Anna’s grasp as Tara stepped aside, and he shoved Dwight against the wall as he pulled his buck knife out and held it to Dwight’s eye.

“Do it. Do it,” Tara hissed.

“You wanna end it this way… you go ahead,” Dwight said. “I’m sorry. I am. I know you want to.”

“He could just be here to see if you were here,” Rick said.

“We can’t trust him,” Michonne agreed.

“He owned me,” Dwight said. “But not anymore. What I did, I was doing it for someone else. She just got away. So, now I’m here. So are you, because of her.”

_"Woman named Sherry slipped me a key when no one was lookin’.”_

“Do it!” Tara practically shrieked.

“There’s another choice.”

“Daryl,” Tara called. “Daryl, you knew her.”

“Negan trusts me. We work together, we can stop him,” Dwight said.

Anna noted the way he wasn’t pleading with Daryl. Like he accepted whatever Daryl planned to do to him—like he knew he deserved it.

“You knew me then, and you know me now. You know I’m not lyin’,” Dwight said. “I’m not.”

“Do it,” Tara snapped. “Do it!”

Daryl pulled his knife away, but he kept his hand against Dwight’s throat as Rick approached.

“They have Sasha, if she’s even alive,” Rosita finally said.

“Why didn’t you say something?” Jesus asked. “He could be our only chance to get her back.”

“Because I don’t trust him,” Rosita snapped. “But I trust Daryl.”

“Negan’s coming soon,” Dwight said and Daryl dropped his hand away, moving to stand beside Anna. “Tomorrow. Three trucks probably. Twenty Saviors and him. I can slow them down,” he assured. “Bring some trees down in the road, buy a little time for you guys to get ready. If you can take them out, that’s where we start. You kill them, I’ll radio back to the Sanctuary.”

“The Sanctuary?” Rick asked.

“Where Negan lives. That’s what they call it,” Dwight explained. “I can radio back to them and say everything’s okay. You drive the trucks back, and I can lead you right inside, and, with the right plan, we can wipe out the rest. Check to see if your friend’s still alive. Then, we get the workers on our side, build our numbers up, and go from outpost to outpost and end this.”

Rick took a moment, seeming to think it over until he finally spoke.

“Keep talkin’.”

* * *

Anna stood beside Rick and Daryl as they watched Dwight climb into a truck and Rosita open the front gate. She couldn’t stop thinking about Sasha, wondering if she was okay, or if something terrible had already happened to her.

“We just started it—the whole thing,” Rick said as the truck engine started.

“If he’s lyin’, I’m gonna kill him real slow,” Daryl growled. “When this is done, I don’t give a damn if he’s sorry. I will kill that sum’ bitch.”

“If he’s lyin’, this is already over,” Rick said before walking off. 

* * *

Anna and Daryl walked through the dark house, making their way to the master bedroom. She hesitated at the door, knowing that a conversation waited on the other side. She’d have to explain the shredded dress she’d left on the bathroom floor and the nest in the closet.

With a heavy sigh, she pushed the door open and went to turn on the small light on the bedside table. She turned to see Daryl staring at the empty space in the middle of the room.

“They took our bed,” she explained, only for him to nod.

“They burned ‘em,” he said.

Anna clenched her jaw, deciding there was nothing she could do about the burned mattresses.

“Where you been sleepin’?” He asked.

“I—uh—” she stammered. “In the closet,” she finally muttered.

He raised a brow at her and went to the bathroom as if intending to see for himself. But he paused in the doorway as he turned on the light and looked at the floor.

Daryl knelt down and picked up a piece of the destroyed dress, turning to her.

“It was… an emotional day,” she said, as if that was enough of an explanation.

Daryl looked down at the torn fabric, smoothing his thumb over it.

“I should’a killed him,” he said. “Isaac, Dwight—both of ‘em. They don’t deserve to still be breathin’.”

Anna shook her head.

“Dwight can be useful to us,” she said, taking a step toward him. “Keeping him alive may be our best play.”

Daryl narrowed his eyes.

“Would you’ve kept Isaac alive after everythin’ if he was tryna help us?” He asked, his voice biting. “Would it still be the best play?”

Anna looked away, her chest burning. She bit her tongue, not wanting to say anything she may regret.

"No one was going to stop you in that cell, Daryl,” she finally said, forcing her voice to stay even. “You chose not to kill him.”

“What if it’s the wrong choice? What if he betrays us?” Daryl asked.

“We won’t know until he does—if he does,” Anna said, going to the armchair in the corner.

She sat down and began untying her boots.

“Sounds like you know from experience,” Daryl huffed.

Anna stilled, staring at the carpet in front of her. She could almost feel the cold rock in her palms again. She wasn’t sure she wanted to relive it. But Daryl needed to know he wasn’t alone in his uncertainty.

“There was a guy—I never knew his name,” she started, shaking her head as she rested her elbows on her knees and leaned forward, clasping her hands together. “He was with Isaac, back after the farm.”

She kept her eyes on the floor, but she could just see Daryl tensing.

“He brought me food,” she went on. “Never touched me. Not once.”

“He let that piece of shit—” Daryl ground out, and Anna nodded.

“When Marley and her group came, they started firing on them. He pulled me out of that car and we ran,” she went on. “He saved my life. And I killed him.”

She looked up then, seeing Daryl staring at her, his brows knitted together.

“I didn’t have to. Maybe I shouldn’t have,” she said. “Things certainly would have gone differently if I hadn’t. But I can’t know how, because I did it, and I can’t take that back.”

“You’re a better person than me, Daryl,” she said, getting to her feet. “You could’ve killed Dwight, but you chose not to, because you know he can help us. I didn’t stop to think. I just acted. I—I don’t know what I would do if I could go back,” she said, running her hand through her hair. “If I would do things differently, if I would keep him alive. But it doesn’t matter.”

“He deserved to die,” Daryl said.

“Did he?” Anna asked. “I’m not so sure anymore. By killing him, by killing Dwight, we take away all chances.”

“You’re startin’ to sound like Morgan.”

“But am I wrong?”

Daryl looked away, his jaw ticking, and Anna sighed.

“Let’s get some rest while we can,” she said, kicking off her boots and going to the closet to grab the blankets. “We don’t know what tomorrow will bring.”


	20. Chapter Nineteen

Anna, Rick, and Michonne went over the agreed upon positions as they made their way through Alexandria. It was a deceptively bright day, given the circumstances. All around them, the Alexandrians were getting ready, carrying weapons to their locations. Emma, Jesus, and Enid had returned to Hilltop sometime in the night with Judith to fill Maggie in and keep the little girl safe. Rick had decided it would be best for Hilltop to stay out of the fight for now—in case things went south, they wanted another card to play.

“I’ll be at the front gates with Jadis,” Rick said.

“Jadis?” Anna asked, adjusting her grip on her stick and the rifle on her shoulder. “Oh. The leader of the garbage people.”

“The Scavengers,” Michonne corrected.

“Right,” Anna said as they stopped at the front gate; it rolled open, the RV pulling in with Gabriel behind the wheel.

Men and women on bicycles came behind him, followed by three garbage trucks, and even more people on bicycles.

“How many people did she bring?” Anna asked, watching the Scavengers climb out of the garbage trucks.

She noted how one man didn’t have a rifle like the others, but a bright red umbrella.

A tall woman with short blond hair and a long black coat approached them, another, shorter woman and an older man following her. Anna assumed the tall woman was Jadis.

“What you fight for,” Jadis said, looking around at Alexandria.

“Not the place—the people, each other,” Rick said, looking to Michonne before turning back to Jadis. “You’re a part of that now.”

“We take. We don’t bother—our way,” Jadis said. “Maybe another way.”

She turned to Michonne and Anna.

“Yours?” She asked, nodding her head toward Rick.

Anna raised her eyebrows and shook her head.

“We’re together,” Michonne said.

“I lay with him after,” Jadis said. “You care?”

Anna scoffed quietly.

“We should get back to work,” Michonne suggested.

“Yeah,” Rick agreed, backing away.

The two started off, leaving Anna alone with Jadis and her two bodyguards.

“Uh, so…” Anna said, “how—uh—how many people did you bring?”

“Most,” Jadis answered.

“And most is?” Anna asked.

“More than enough,” she said with a sly grin before wandering off with her people.

“Helpful,” Anna grumbled.

She shook her head and headed beyond the gate to the moving truck Jessie had parked nearby. Daryl stood wrapping wire around a bundle of dynamite while Rosita and Jessie crouched over a bomb.

“How’s it going?” Anna asked, looking at their progress.

“It’s going,” Jessie said, not taking his eyes off the wire he was stripping.

“You said this would have a remote detonator?” Anna asked.

“Yes,” Rosita said.

“And you’re sure we have enough?” She asked.

“Yes,” Rosita snapped. “Don’t you have something else you could be micromanaging?”

Anna narrowed her eyes at Rosita, ready to lay into her, but Jessie cut in.

“Hey, how ‘bout you cool it. Save the sass for the Saviors,” he said.

Rosita glared at him, but said nothing as she went back to their work. Anna rolled her eyes, casting a questioning glance at Jessie, who shook his head as if to say _not right now_. With a fleeting look at Daryl, she left them to their preparations.

Wandering back inside, she watched as Tara and Holly moved the spiked cars in front of the gate, and Gabriel moved another just inside. Just down the street, she could see Michonne heading to her position with one of the Scavengers and two rifles, while Rick spoke with Tobin and Scott, who held an armful of rifles each.

Anna deflated, overcome with an intense sense of uselessness. Now that the planning was done, everyone seemed to know their jobs and where to go. Except her. She didn’t even know why she had been so involved in the planning to begin with, but Rick seemed to take her suggestions to heart.

She shook her head. She was nothing more than a soldier with no one to tell her what to do.

“Hey, Anna,” Scott called as he and Tobin approached her.

“Yeah?” She asked, looking up at the two men.

“Rick said you knew where these were supposed to go,” Tobin said, holding up his rifles.

“Put some behind the RV, some along the walls, and some in the tower,” she said.

“All right,” Scott said, nodding. “Thanks.”

The two headed off to the locations she’d specified as Jessie, Rosita, and Daryl arrived.

“We’re done with the explosives,” Rosita said as she brushed past.

Anna frowned at her before turning to Daryl and Jessie, glancing at the sun.

“It’s time we get in position,” she said, heading for the car just inside the gate. “The Saviors could be here any second.”

“Anna,” Jessie called, and she paused. “You’re doing a good job—Rosita’s just…”

“A bitch?” Anna offered.

“Upset,” Jessie said. “She tends to take it out on others.”

“She needs to get her shit together,” Anna huffed. “Now isn’t the time to be causing tension.”

“I’ll talk to her,” Jessie said, nodding before he followed after Rosita, leaving Anna and Daryl alone.

“You ready for this?” Daryl asked.

“If I haven’t completely fucked us in the planning, yeah,” Anna said, shrugging as she continued to the car.

She set her rifle down, leaning it against the back-passenger door. Daryl was quiet as he came to stand beside her. Everyone was getting into position as the front gate was pulled shut and locked.

“I’m not Glenn,” Anna muttered. “He came up with the plans. I just did what he said.”

“You’re right. You ain’t Glenn,” Daryl agreed. “You’re Anna and you’re smart.”

Distantly, she heard the turkey call from the lookouts. It was time. Whether she was ready or not, the Saviors were coming.

“Rosita,” Rick called from the platform beside Jadis. “Get into position. I’ll signal you. And the wall’s gonna hold?”

“It’ll hold,” Rosita assured.

The sound of engines grew louder and louder as they watched three trucks pull toward Alexandria, led by a flat bed with one Eugene Porter standing atop. Anna didn’t want to believe what she was seeing. He wore all black and held a megaphone to his face as he spoke.

“All points are covered. Every contingency is already met. I come armed with two barrels of truth. A test is upon you, and I’m giving out the cheat sheet,” he said as his truck squealed to a stop.

He turned to face them from where he stood beside what looked like a covered box. The engine shut off.

“H-hello,” he stammered into the megaphone again. “I come salved with the hope that it is my dropped knowledge that you heed. Options are zero to none.”

“Fucking hell,” she heard Jessie sneer.

Anna ground her teeth, glaring at Eugene, her skin heating.

“Compliance and fealty are your only escape. Bottom-lining it,” Eugene sighed, “you may thrive, or you may die. I sincerely wish for the former for everyone’s sake. The jig is up and in full effect. Will you comply, Rick?”

“Where’s Negan?” Rick asked, glaring down at Eugene.

Eugene dropped the megaphone to his side.

“I’m Negan,” he said.

Anna clenched her jaw, bowing her head in frustration before looking up at Rick, her fingers inching toward her rifle. Rick seemed to hesitate before he finally looked to Rosita and nodded. Everyone dropped, taking cover when—

There was no explosion.

Anna furrowed her brow, her mind racing until she came to the only logical conclusion. She swung around—only to be met by the barrel of two guns and smirking Scavengers.

“Around,” one Scavenger ordered.

Her grip on her stick tightened as she slowly turned to face forward. Negan came to stand in front of the flat bed with Eugene. 

“You ever hear the one about the stupid little prick named Rick who thought he knew shit but didn’t know shit and got everyone that he gave a shit about killed?” Negan asked as he climbed out of his truck. “It’s about you. You’re all gonna wanna put your guns down now,”

“No one drops anything,” Rick snapped. “We had a deal,” he said to Jadis.

“Tamiel came for the boat things. Followed ones who took. Made a better deal,” Jadis said simply.

“You mother—” Anna hissed when Negan cut in.

“You push me, and you push me. And you push me, Rick,” he sighed. “You just tried to blow us up, right? I mean, I get me, my people. But Eugene? He’s one of yours. And after what he did—he stepped up. You people are animals. Universe gives you a sign, and you just shove your finger right up its ass,” he laughed. “Dwight, Simon, chop-chop.”

Dwight and Simon climbed onto the flatbed. They unstrapped and uncovered the box to reveal a shiny, gray casket, which they moved to stand on its short edge. Negan climbed up to stand beside it.

"So, you don’t like Eugene anymore. You guys gotta like Sasha,” Negan said. “I do, too. Got her right here, packaged for your convenience, alive and well.”

Anna didn’t think he was bluffing. Negan had proven to be a lot of things, but she couldn’t recall him ever lying.

“Now, I brought her so I wouldn’t have to kill all of you, and not killing all of you could get complicated. See, I know there’s a lot of firepower left in there, Rick. So, I’m gonna make this simple. I want all the guns you've managed to scrape up. Yep, I know about those, too,” he grinned. “I want every last grain of lemonade you got left. I want a person of your own choosing for Lucille.”

He pointed at Daryl.

“Daryl – Ooh, I gotta get me my Daryl back. I see you,” he chuckled, and Anna stepped closer to him. “I’ll take Anna, too, while we’re at it. And the pool table and all the pool cues and chalk. And I want it now or Sasha dies, and then all of you. Probably. C'mon, Rick. Just because I brought her in a casket doesn't mean she has to leave in it.”

Rick said nothing and Negan sighed, scratching his forehead.

“You know what? You suck ass, Rick,” Negan snapped. “You really do. I don't want to have to kill her, but that's exactly what you're gonna make me do.”

“Let me see her,” Rick demanded.

“Oh,” Negan chuckled. “All right. Just give me a second. I might have to get her up to speed. You can’t hear shit inside this thing.”

He tapped on the casket.

“Sash,” he called, pulling the casket open. “You’re not gonna believe this crap—Holy goddamn!”

Negan fell backwards off the flatbed, Sasha toppling on top of him. It took her a moment to register what she was seeing as Sasha snarled and snapped at Negan’s face.

“No,” she breathed.

Distantly, she heard three gunshots. Blindly, Anna whirled around, swinging her stick upwards, knocking the rifle aimed at her out of the Scavenger’s grip before bringing the stick back around, slamming it into the man’s face.

She pulled the 9mm strapped to her hip and fired a single shot into his forehead. Gunfire erupted around her.

“Find cover!” Anna shouted, taking her own advice as she ran for the tower.

She took down the Scavengers that got in her way, using her stick to conserve ammo. When she reached the tower, she threw herself into the door and ran up the stairs. Once at the top, she spotted the rifle she had stored there and grabbed for it, dropping her stick to the ground.

_POP!_

A burning pain ran through her arm and she fell to the ground. She clutched the epicenter of the pain and drew her hand back to see red blood coating her fingers. She looked to the door and went cold.

With his gun aloft, Isaac stood in the doorway, smirking at her.

“Hey there, Annie.”


	21. Chapter Twenty

“Put the guns down—both of them,” Isaac ordered.

With shaking hands, her breath hitching in her throat, Anna set the rifle and her 9mm on the ground before holding her left arm to staunch the bleeding. She felt through the hole the bullet had made in her jacket with her fingers and determined that it was just a graze.

“Slide them over there,” he said, gesturing to the far side of the room.

She did, kicking the weapons away from her. The gunfire outside had mostly faded. Isaac glanced out the window and smirked, and before she could react, he had a fistful of her jacket and was yanking her to her feet.

Anna winced at the pain that shot up her arm, her skin tingling at his touch. She tried to pull away from him as she looked out the window, seeing Rick and Carl on their knees in front of Negan with everyone else either dead or being held at gunpoint. She could see two Scavengers with their rifles aimed at Daryl.

“You’ve lost,” Isaac whispered in her ear just before throwing her back to the ground.

Anna caught herself, falling on her hands and knees. She cried out in pain as her left palm slammed against the hardwood floor and her fingers brushed against her stick where she had dropped it. Her head pounded and her ears rang.

“You’ve been a naughty girl, Annie. Going to Hilltop, starting a fuss,” he teased.

She tensed, turning over to face him. Panic rose higher and higher in her chest and she thought she might drown in it.

“You saw me?”

If Isaac knew about Hilltop—

“Of course, I saw you,” he laughed. “And as long as you do as you’re told, Negan will never know you’ve got Hilltop. All you have to do is surrender. Join the Saviors—join the cause,” he said mockingly.

She blinked at the black spots forming in her vision—she was losing too much blood—and, suddenly, Isaac was kneeling in front of her with his .45 pressed against her temple.

“What choice do you think you have exactly?” He asked. “You’re outnumbered, out gunned, and out of options.”

Anna swallowed the lump in her throat and forced herself to look him in the eyes. Her whole body trembled beneath him as she tried to push herself away, but it was like her muscles had turned to jelly.

“What makes you think I won’t tell Negan you knew about Hilltop?” She challenged, though her voice wavered.

“Who do you think he’s going to believe?” Isaac asked, chuckling. “Face it, sweetheart, you’ve got no cards to play. Negan’s won. He’ll kill the kid, then take you and Daryl. You’ll resist—that’s what makes it fun—but he’ll break you and then you’ll kneel.”

Anna wasn’t sure what had come over her when she spoke next—whether it was a flare up of bravery or stupidity or the loss of blood—but the words were out of her mouth before she could stop them.

“Is that what happened to you?” She asked. “Did he break you, Isaac?”

The second she said it, he slammed his fist against the side of her head. She fell into the small table that held the extra ammo, bullets clattering onto the ground.

“What did I say about how you talk to me, Annie?” He asked as he hovered over her.

Anna rubbed at the throbbing in her head as she righted herself, but she didn’t answer. Isaac reached out and grabbed her by the hair, and she cried out in pain as he pulled her forward so that she was on her hands and knees again.

“Answer me!” He shouted.

She said nothing, and felt his boot connect hard with her ribs. Grunting, Anna wrapped her arms protectively around her torso, curling in on herself, but he grabbed her hair again and yanked her head back until she was staring up at him.

“You’ve been a bad girl, Annie,” he snarled. “It’s time you were punished.”

He threw her to the ground, this time on her back. She scrambled to get to her feet, only for him to kick her back down, her hand bumping the stick again.

“I didn’t say you could get up,” he huffed. “It’s like you’ve forgotten everything I’ve taught you. But when we get back to the Sanctuary, I’m gonna make you remember. And then I’m gonna teach Daryl.”

Anna’s blood went cold and her body went rigid as her hand gripped her stick.

“You’re not going to touch him,” she hissed.

She’d die before she let Isaac hurt Daryl.

“And who’s going to stop me, Annie? You?” He laughed.

Shouting and gunfire erupted from outside. Anna looked toward the window. In her peripheral, she could see Isaac was looking as well, and he did not look happy with what he saw.

“Damn it,” he muttered. “Alright, Annie. Time for plan B. Get up.”

Isaac pulled the hammer back on his gun and aimed it at the back of her head. Anna got her feet under her. Moving as quickly as she could, she whirled around, whipping the stick horizontally. It connected with Isaac’s hand, knocking his gun off its aim as he squeezed the trigger, firing into the wall.

Before he could respond, she stood, swinging the stick back around as hard as she could, slamming it against the side of his face, catching his ear.

Isaac jumped back, his hand going to his ear for a moment before they both looked to the blood on his fingers. She stared between the blood and him, Emma’s voice ringing in her ear.

_"You’re human. And so is he.”_

“You—” he started, only for Anna to cut him off with another swing of her stick cracking against the other side of his head.

He staggered back, aiming his gun blindly and firing. Anna fell to the side, the bullet just barely missing her. When she managed to get to her feet, Isaac was running for the door. She chased after him, and he fired on her again, forcing her to take cover behind the corner as he made it down the stairs and out of the tower.

Once he was out of sight, Anna rushed down the stairs and outside. She turned every which way, searching for him, but she knew he was gone.

* * *

Anna stood off to the side, her arm being tended to by a doctor from the Kingdom as Rick, Ezekiel, and Maggie stood on the hastily made stage. She was barely listening to the rallying speech they were giving their militia. Seeing their numbers more than doubled by Hilltop and the Kingdom, seeing Carol and Morgan among them—it was a relief.

“Should heal up fine,” the woman said before walking off just as Daryl and Jessie approached.

“You alright?” Daryl asked.

“I’m fine,” Anna said, shrugging on her jacket. “It was just a graze.”

“Good thing that bastard is a terrible shot,” Jessie said.

“Isaac wasn’t trying to kill me,” Anna corrected.

“I don’t give a shit what he was tryna do, I see him—I’m gonna kill him,” Daryl affirmed.

Jessie nodded his agreement.

“No, you’re not.”

“Excuse me?” Jessie snapped.

“You’re not going to kill him—either of you,” Anna said. “You see Isaac, if you get the chance, you bring him to me. I’m going to be the one to kill that sorry sack of shit.”

Jessie and Daryl exchanged a look. Had she not already explained to them what had happened in the tower, she would have thought they were doubting her. But they both turned to her and gave a single nod.

In her peripheral, Anna saw Rick leading Ezekiel, Carol, Morgan, and Maggie toward them, and she straightened.

“I’m glad you decided to join us,” Anna said to Ezekiel as the four stopped in front of her.

“It was not a decision made lightly,” Ezekiel said.

“What changed your mind?” She asked.

Morgan shifted on his feet, keeping his eyes on the ground.

“The Saviors killed Benjamin,” Ezekiel answered.

Anna’s eyes widened at the news, looking between Ezekiel and Morgan.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

It was quiet for a moment as the words hung heavy between them, until Rick broke the silence.

“Anna,” he started, seeming to hesitate in what he was trying to say, as if unsure whether or not he should even ask.

“What’s going on?” Anna asked.

“Look, the time you spent at Fort Benning,” he started, scratching at the bridge of his nose. “You’ve got the most training in this—”

“Training that we need to be more than just a militia,” Maggie added.

“What we need is an army. And from what Rick Grimes and Maggie Rhee have said, you can provide that,” Ezekiel concluded.

“What we’re askin’ is a lot, I know,” Rick said. “But we need someone organizing this thing. I think you’re the best fit—we all do.”

_“I’m not some general—don’t mistake me for one.”_

Anna gaped at the them, glancing at Daryl and Jessie. Jessie shrugged, and she turned back to Rick. She couldn’t help but think they should be asking Glenn or Abraham, but all Alexandria and Hilltop and the Kingdom had left was her. She wasn’t their best option; she was their last option.

_“I’m not Glenn,” Anna muttered. “He came up with the plans. I just did what he said.”_

_“You’re right. You ain’t Glenn,” Daryl agreed. “You’re Anna and you’re smart.”_

“I’ll do it,” Anna said, nodding.

Rick gently patted her right arm just as Aaron and Jesus carefully carried Sasha’s body past. They gathered around as the men laid her down beside the others who had not survived the battle. Graves were already being made for the fallen, and people were saying goodbye. Gabriel made his way down the row of bodies, reciting a prayer for their souls.

“Do you think Sasha did that herself?” Rick asked.

“I don’t know how, but I know she did,” Maggie said. “She gave us a chance.”

Anna was grateful for that, and grateful that it was Maggie and Jesus who had found her in the woods. It was better for Sasha’s family to have taken care of her—someone who loved her.

“You did,” Rick said, looking to Maggie. “You made the right decision to come.”

“The decision was made a long time ago,” Maggie insisted. “Before any of us knew each other, when we were all strangers who would have just passed each other on the street before the world ended.”

Anna glanced at Daryl standing beside her. It was the end of the world that brought them together.

“And now we mean everything to each other,” Maggie went on.

Anna reached out and slipped her hand into Daryl’s.

“You and Anderson were in trouble. You two were trapped. Glenn didn't know either of you, but he helped you. He put himself in danger for you. And that started it all—” Maggie said, looking around at them. “From Atlanta, to my daddy's farm, to the prison, to here; to this moment now, not as strangers—as family, because Glenn chose to be there for you that day a long time ago.”

Daryl squeezed her hand. So many things had led them here—every action and inaction had a consequence that somehow brought them together.

“That was the decision that changed everything. It started with the three of you, and it just grew to all of us to sacrifice for each other—to suffer and stand, to grieve, to give, to love, to live to fight for each other. Glenn made the decision, Rick.”

Maggie smiled at him.

“I was just following his lead.”

* * *

* * *

Isaac stormed down the hall, his boot steps echoing as he wiped at the blood still dripping from the gash just in front of his ear.

“Damn it,” he hissed. “Fuck.”

Both sides of his head and his hand were still throbbing from that damn stick of hers. He couldn’t get her face out of his head. That shocked expression after the first two hits. That visible shift from fear to confusion to—he didn’t even know what it was, but he wanted to erase it.

His mind began to race with all the delicious ways he was going to use that stupid stick to do just that. A grin curled across his face at the anticipation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story continues in... "Above Water"


End file.
